12 SEPTEMBER 2022 S ometimes, when bearing all the burdens of life becomes overwhelming, I drive north and seek refuge among the pines. People with scientific knowledge give them such names as pinus ponderosa var. scopulorum and pinus strobiformis , but underneath loads of linguistic luggage, they are pine trees. Ponderosa pines, mostly. Majestic ponderosa pines nourish the land and the souls of those who find solitude among their branches. They grow all over the west, but the area stretching east from near Flagstaff along the Mogollon Rim to the White Mountains contains the largest ponderosa pine forest on the North American continent. It’s something we Arizonans brag about, particularly those among us who have spent time in the forests, creating a personal refuge and refreshing ourselves in the solitude, or walked across a bed of fallen needles and listened to the hushed sound it creates. We compare the aroma to a sort of woodsy smell that we can’t actually describe. Kind of like fresh pine bark, even though that’s redundant. And the sound of footsteps upon a forest floor is reminiscent of those impressed upon newly fallen snow. But the whisper of a gentle breeze caressing the tree tops can be neither defined nor delineated by the utterings of mortals. Mere words are inadequate. Nothing else smells like a pine forest. Nothing else feels like a pine forest. Nothing else sounds like a pine forest. The trees themselves do not grow. Not in the common botanical sense. They reach for the sky. They soar to towering heights. They stand well over two hundred feet in some instances if loggers and fires let them achieve their potential. And their lifespans, if allowed, can easily surpass five hundred years - some even longer. One in Washington was estimated to be 907 years old. One in Idaho measured 69.5 meters tall. That’s almost 275 feet of ponderosa pine shooting skyward. The pines survive in the face of human intervention, lightning, fires, infestations, clear-cutting, housing developments and questionable forest management practices. With the equipment now available, botanists and arborists can trace the entire history of a tree, from seedling to decomposing hulk. They can study an old tree and tell if there was adequate rainfall or drought during its lifetime. Or if any acid rain fell. Or if anything important happened to it the year Franklin Delano Roosevelt was inaugurated for the first time. All that makes little difference for the rest of us who go to the pine forests to look, sense, and feel like we belong there. And hope nobody else ever comes to violate the sanctity we find among the stately pines. But eventually, their time as sentinels of the forest will end. We wonder about that. Wonder how anything as big as that tree could die. Lesser things die. Things as big as that tree shouldn’t die. Their size should give them immortality. What force could possibly bring down something so magnificent as a ponderosa pine? Besides axes and chain saws, of course. Nature, probably. Nature and old age. The lifetime of a fallen tree somehow takes on importance. Humans look at it and agree that it is old. Older than any of them, probably older than most of them put together. So, age becomes a topic for discussion, like we’re trying to pay homage to it by debating its duration in the forest. Was it there when Washington crossed the Delaware? Maybe. When Lee surrendered at Appomattox? Probably. When Babe Ruth hit sixty home runs? Most definitely. In a non-scientific manner, we establish only that the tree is dead and that the probable cause is old age. That settles the issue for most, and it’s incidental, anyway. The only certainty is that the tree stood in the forest for a long time. It grew straight and tall; it provided shade and shelter. And on many days, it was an instrument of the wind that played a melody while drifting through the treetops and haunting those who listened. For years after its actual death, the giant remained upright, pointing directly to the sky, although stripped of its foliage but always dedicated to its task of directing the eyes of mortals to the firmament. Then the day comes when the old tree can no longer withstand the forces that govern it, and the vigil ends. Weakened by time and the elements, the tree crashes to the ground. Only the forest witnesses the demise, and the forest accepts it without comment. The tree’s needles, discarded over the years, cushion the fall and soften the noise. Since these things happen regularly and play an integral part in a long-established cycle, the actual cause of death may never be studied. The untrained eye will look at a rotted stump and thousands of miniature tunnels crisscrossing beneath the remaining bark fragments and say it was time for the tree to die. Of old age and disease. Or maybe insects. But nothing conclusive, and it makes little difference. A giant has fallen. For a while, the tree lies in state. Its naked branches turn and twist in a frenzied dance that is a direct contrast to the trunk, which refused to yield to the wind except to sing its song. Gradually, the former titan of the wilderness will dissolve into the earth, returning the elements that made it a woodland entity to the forest floor. The tree will join others that have fallen and await others that will fall. As their time on earth ends, they will provide life to others. To insects. Toadstools. Seedlings. Soon, in geologic years, another giant of equal stature will take its place. And the forest will remain a place where humanity will have a direct connection to the sky, nature, and the inner self. A tribute to the woodland giants Ponderosa Pines along the Mogollon Rim. The Lowe Road A former Valley newspaperman who now writes about his travels across Arizona, the U.S. and the globe. BY SAM LOWE

3811 N. 44th St. Phoenix, AZ 85018 (602) 767-8300 | dementiacampus.org An innovation of Hospice of the Valley Families in Arcadia find support at new Dementia Care and Education Campus members of the community. Each workshop includes time for questions and answers. There is no cost, but registration is required for each session you would like to attend. Ongoing Events, Classes & Support Groups In-Person Gatherings Adult Day Club Specially designed to engage people living with Alzheimer’s disease and other dementias. Memory Café Mondays • 10–11:15 a.m. | Thursdays • 2–3:15 p.m. Care partners enjoy stimulating conversation in educational and support sessions. People with dementia participate in engaging activities provided by professional caregivers. New Song Center Camp Connect–the–Dots! Saturday, Oct. 22 • 10 a.m.–2 p.m. Support for children living with parents or grandparents with Alzheimer’s or other dementias. Virtual Classes – Visit dementiacampus.org for Zoom Info Zoom Support Groups for Dementia Caregivers Tuesdays • 10–11 a.m. | Wednesdays • Noon–1 p.m. Join other care partners while remaining in the comfort of your home to discuss the stresses, challenges and rewards of providing care for a person living with dementia. Memories of the Heart 1st & 3rd Tuesdays • 10:30 a.m.–Noon Support for those experiencing loss when a loved one dies of dementia. Mindfulness and Loss: class on Zoom Sundays, Sept. 11, 18 and 25 • 1-3 p.m. Practice the art of mindfulness to help heal from loss due to death, illness or estrangement. Thursday, Sept. 1 Navigating Dementia Panel 10–11 a.m. Our Dementia Educators help untangle the challenges of living with dementia and explore community resources. Thursday, Sept. 8 Communication Strategies (Improv) 10–11 a.m. Learn how improvisation techniques can enhance communication with persons living with dementia. Saturday, Sept. 10 Dementia Experience and Education 9:15 a.m.–Noon This interactive presentation presses participants to perform everyday tasks as if they were living with cognitive impairment Thursday, Sept. 15 Legal Issues Related to Incapacity and Paying for Care 10–11 a.m. A look at important legal documents that ensure the goals and wishes of the individual are carried out. Thursday, Sept. 22 What are the Most Common Types of Dementia? 10–11 a.m. This presentation provides an overview of dementia and describes the most common types and symptoms. Thursday, Sept. 29 Understanding Dementia: A Challenging journey 9 a.m.–Noon Explore dementia and its progression, learn to maintain meaningful connections and discuss ways to reduce stress. K Ģĩūä tter ͡ #ĩä t ter September Weekly Workshops Classes held in person at the Dementia Campus For questions or to register, email DementiaCampusEvents@hov.org or call (602) 767-8300