New Jersey has malls. New York has skyscrapers. California has trees.
Great big giant trees like the sequoia and redwood. They must be cousins of Treebeard from The Lord of the Rings.
Treebeard is one of the Ents, the tree-like creatures of Fangorn forest. The Ents look like trees, but they talk and sing and walk. They are shepherds of the trees. They helped the Fellowship of the Ring by attacking Isengard and crippling Saruman’s army-making factory.
We’ve been on a tree-viewing expedition these past few weeks, first with friends of mine in Armstrong Redwoods State Natural Reserve. 
As we walked on the trail among the giant trees, my friend said the setting reminded her of Twilight (we pictured Edward scaling the trees) while my other friend said it feels like The Chronicles of Narnia. Meanwhile, the massive trees made me think of The Lord of the Rings.
In Armstrong Redwoods State Natural Reserve, the oldest tree in the grove is the Colonel Armstrong tree which is 1,400 years old. We humans are lucky if we reach a hundred. Imagine what Colonel Armstrong has seen in the last 1,400 years.
In Sequoia National Park, we meet General Sherman, the largest living specimen on the planet. Though it is not the tallest tree at 275 feet, it is the most massive, with its trunk measuring 36 feet in diameter. (At 275 feet, would Sherman bully Treebeard, who is only 14 feet tall? Would Sherman give Treebeard a wedgie?)
According to the refrigerator magnet I bought (and refrigerator magnets do not lie), sequoia trees can grow taller than space shuttles, and can grow as tall as the Statue of Liberty. Humans are to the sequoia as ants are to humans.
After Sequoia National Park my husband and I go on to Yosemite National Park. I stand at the bottom of Lower Yosemite Falls and feel like a speck in the universe. Meanwhile, the view from Glacier Point is astounding: great wide valley bellow, incredible rock formations across the way including Half Dome, and clear blue sky overhead. In terms of beauty, Nature can kick a Victoria’s Secret model’s butt.
While driving in Yosemite, we see a pair of gray foxes crossing the narrow road. One “poses” as I take its picture from the safety of the car. The other disappears into the trees.
Incidentally, I am reading Jack London’s Call of the Wild, where the protagonist, a dog named Buck, revels in being out in the wild: hunting salmon and moose for food, digging a hole in the ground to protect himself from the cold night air, drinking from the stream and running with his wild brother the wolf. The book inspires me to be one with nature and to embrace the outdoors.
But outdoors it is 30 degrees Fahrenheit. I shiver and quickly walk back to the car. I get inside and crank up the heat.
I Have Ren 