Tree fetish

[Laurelin] bore leaves of a young green like the new-opened beech; their edges were of glittering gold. Flowers swung upon her branches in clusters of yellow flame, formed each to a glowing horn that spilled a golden rain upon the ground...

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, "Of the Beginning of Days," (p. 33 in my edition)

I've been reminded of Tolkien's description of one of the original trees at breakfast lately. I look out the window and see the early morning sun lighting up my neighbor's magnificent oak from the bottom—quite a dramatic effect, that you might get some idea of in this photo. Well, Fantastic Forrest (author of an always-entertaining blog) says I have a tree fetish and she's probably right, although Tolkien had one, too, so I consider myself in good company.

Incidentally, the neighbor's tree is like the description in another way, too—fortunately we've come to the end of the season of the "golden rain," which in this case are buckets of oak blossom detritus and pollen. Pretty hard to keep the cars clean under that! But the shade the tree provides in the heat of summer is worth a little inconvenience in the spring. Everyone in this part of the world is probably a tree-fetishist, since without that shade in July and August we'd all be little fried buttons of sunburned flesh. ¡Viva los arboles!