You can picture me; I’m an Oregonian. I love trees. I literally hug trees. I stroke their needles and run my hands over their bark. I caress silky-soft decaying stumps. I love plucky little infant trees and towering sturdy old growth trees, I love living trees and richly populated fallen trees. They come in infinite variety. I love fruit trees and Douglas Firs and flowering dogwoods and slender birches and leafy maples. I’ve hardly met a tree I don’t like. It should not surprise you that I like to breathe with the trees. Let’s breathe with the trees now.