The Cedar

~ the sentinel who welcomes me home ~

Every time I arrive home and pull into my usual parking spot, The Cedar greets me.

The Cedar waits in silence for as long as I’m out of the house, patiently, biding its time, sturdy and knowing, ushering in the moment my car door swings open. 

That’s when The Cedar reaches out—not with wandering branches or falling needles, but scent. A sweet, effusive, resinous wave, golden and rich, filling the air with joy.

If you’ve ever had the good fortune to stand within a large cedar tree’s grasp, you’ll know the aroma isn’t a subtle thing—not tiptoeing or drifting into your nostrils, but hitting you, hard. Like a friend clapping you on the back—or like the time a much younger Alexander got so excited to unexpectedly see his good friend and Whimsie reader Erik at the bar that he joyfully punched him in the stomach many times over. 

Ahem, anywho… There’s nothing tentative about The Cedar. Always making sure to announce itself, steady and assured, marking the threshold between the world outside and the sanctuary of home, and welcoming, welcoming, welcoming me in.

Each time I step out of my car and into The Cedar’s grasp, my body responds. Breath deepens, peace settles into the marrow of my bones, mind clears. My time in the world—whatever happened—fades, forgotten on the other side of The Cedar’s reach.

Other trees in the neighborhood have their personalities too. The fir trees tower over everyone, flinging their cones about like confetti. The maples put on a grand show in autumn, all fire and spectacle. The aspens love to rustle their leaves for attention.

The Cedar doesn’t bother with such theatrics. 

The Cedar isn’t here to impress, dazzle, or beg for your eyeballs. 

The Cedar is steady—unwavering, rooted in time, in place, in purpose.

And I can’t help but wonder if, in some small way, The Cedar knows me—my routines, the rumble of my car’s engine, the precise moment my door clicks open. The Cedar has watched me come and go countless times over, always offering the same gift: 

The scent of welcome, waiting in the air.

With love from the forest,

~ Alexander

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