Rings

Some humans count anniversaries with jewelry. But did you know, trees do the same?

Long before your clocks ticked or calendars flipped, we trees kept time in rings. Each year, a new circle etched into our core—some wide with abundance, others narrow from drought or hardship. They are journals, written in silence, of every season we’ve stood through.

 
As the growing season begins, cells near our outer bark rapidly divide, forming light-colored wood called earlywood—spongy, wide, and full of water. When summer fades and growth slows, we shift to building latewood: darker, denser, and stronger. That contrast marks the end of one year and the beginning of the next. Once the cycle ends and the cold sets in, the ring is sealed. Growth pauses, and we rest… until the sun calls again.

Some of you carve initials in bark, claiming a tree as witness to your love. But we already remember. We don’t forget a single storm, nor a single spring.