Location

Have to just guess at it, not sharp enough to know more than imagining: most trees must resign themselves to their birthspot, the precise latitude and longitude that a seed sprouts to root, where a venerable tree stands its life.

No location perfect, but certainly this one must be near ideal, firmly grown into a waterfall's hillside crest, as a sturdy clump of wood with green, springing keenly out of the river like a joyously landscaped planting by some great Gardener's Hand, just in place with its pristine, eternal surroundings.

This was a tree's near utopia, as most trees must endure the four seasons' challenging extremes. Thru the year's wide arc, blessed water- the lifeblood of every living tree's fate- rises and lowers in roots' underground aquifers.

Most trees are thirsty for half their proud lives, but too stoic to ever complain- and then each new season comes around again. Periodic but random droughts and wild fires- ravenous monsters in a forest's worst nightmare- they're always present dangers for most trees.

But this tree never knew thirst from personal experience, only hearing its rumor whispered by the smallest river critters. This tree had grown up perfectly fed, provided, protected, a princely tree who never knew pain. Only the endlessly cascading currents led by gravity's kind pull, a certain tree's private paradise to this very day.