The Two-Dimensional Tree

Most trees are round, as you know, and thus in possession of a full three dimensions, although sometimes when trees are very old they might appear more stodgy and oblong and sometimes even square (a fate befalling most of us over thirty). But in the main, your average tree is round, or at least round-ish, and most of us do come ‘round when discussing the all-around virtues of being… well, you know, well-rounded. (We don’t know about you, but we are getting dizzy, what with all this roundabouting.)

In the Northwest Woods, however, there is a Two-Dimensional Tree. It is utterly flat, quite like your basic 2x4 board with a couple of short, scrappy branches perched on the top. We haven’t a clue what happened to the third dimension. It simply isn’t there, and we have instead only a board standing upright with a couple of branches on top, as you can see from the above photograph.

These branches have a few spotty, rusted, and (to be painfully frank) bedraggled leaves. Admittedly this kind of leaf appears to be the fate of many a Madrone tree in the Northwest Woods, and perhaps all Madrones everywhere (not having been there we’re not entirely certain). Unlike other Madrones, however, the Two-Dimensional Tree never grows any new branches, or appears to add any leaves. By early springtime it looks so impossibly moribund that each year we are certain it is "curtains" for the Two-Dimensional Tree, which seems rather inevitable for a tree so sorely lacking in the usual dimensions.



We think the Two-Dimensional Tree is very much like certain shallow people we know who think rather highly of themselves and rather less of us. These are the sorts we regard as deeply superficial, and it is wise to know when one has found oneself in the inadvertent company of such a sort.

In other more enlightened moments, however, we think the Two-Dimensional Tree is a lesson in Narrow-Mindedness. When we find ourselves thinking in a Too This-or-That, Black-or-White, Either-Or Way we remind ourselves how little complexity is therein allowed.

And now that we think about it, quite like those deeply superficial sorts (see above) we too have our moments of a Patronizing Air, or Untoward Judgment, or a Not-Well-Considered Response, and we stand in fond hope that these occasional lapses will be duly noted, and thoroughly overlooked (which latter, truly, should easily be the case in particular with shortcomings).

This is perhaps why we seem to take such delight in early summer when, against all odds, the Two-Dimensional Tree begins to shed its wretched, brittle, spotty, rusty, mordant leaves and replace them with fresh, shiny, new, green ones. It’s back again this year, we say happily. It’s still around!

That latter, of course, is not entirely accurate, what with its Dimensional Challenge, but here it might be finally advised to Bite One's Tongue, in the interests of not being the very sort we earlier disclaimed.

Addendum. As it happens, were one in need of reminder to do the above, one need look no further than Bags That Bite, handmade bags that "can replace your normal non-biting handbag, or function as a special occasions bag." Although we are having some difficulty imagining just what those occasions might be, we must admit we rather like the handbag below.