If the birch is gentle and the oak is majestic, then the beech is gentle and majestic at the same time. His soul is poetic and his soul strong. The essence of each tree is best reflected in its petals. This slightly wavy periphery, the translucent petal in a herbaceous green hue, the parallel veins arranged in a pedantic manner, reveal to us what it is. Once he understood, that oak (Quercus Robur) gave interview, the ordinary beech dared to follow him. Surprisingly, he had prepared some answers that he wanted to convey.

 

Why did you decide to follow the example of an oak tree?

 

I appreciate QR very much and I think it should be emulated. Another personal reason is that I'm looking for a field of expression. I'm trying to poem. I dream of being a poet ...

 

In my opinion, you are destined to be a poet! Do you know how your English name came about? Beech comes from the Anglo-Saxon word boc and the German word Buche, which gave the word book.

 

Interesting. I didn't suspect. I know that Fagus sylvatica translates literally from Latin beech, forest.

 

Does poetry help you look so young? Your bark is smooth and the petals are so delicate.

 

Poetry, shadow and water! As a shade-resistant species, I am less affected by photoaging. My preference for moist air and fresh soil contributes to my good tone and turgor, but also to my distribution in the mountains of Bulgaria from 700 to 1700 m altitude.

 

In the mountains you are the most important of our deciduous species. You create mostly clear plantations - only beech forests. You are obviously self-sufficient.

 

Well, from time to time I give interviews to show myself to the world. (Laughs the bell.)

 

And do you suffer from conflicting desires as a true creator?

 

I suffer! Take, for example, my offspring - my beech acorns. Like oak, they are the favorite food of many animals. I constantly come up with strategies for protecting and disseminating them. In fact, rather just for distribution. Lastly, the dome protrusions for some animals ... At the same time, the fact that my acorns are needed to feed other species caresses me and gives me new meaning. So I refused to make them more bitter. Even now I am tempted to admit that they are edible to humans as well. My leaves are also edible when they are young. As they mature, they become bitter and firmer. The latter, however, does not interfere with livestock. My attitude towards November is also controversial. It is well known that it is necessary for us, the deciduous, to cope with adverse winter conditions. However, I resisted to part with my leaves. I keep some of them dry in winter. For self-esteem - you understand me.

 

I know you have a scientific interest in water. What would you tell us?

 

We are all (trees and humans) temporary repositories of water. Its leaf content is 80-95%. At the roots - 70-90%. In the wood - 40-50%. Water travels and remembers. It is always on the move, even when it seems stationary. You must be familiar with the ascending and descending flow of trees. Osmosis is the process that helps this continuous movement. From cell to cell. Upward, from the roots to the leaves, the xylem moves water and mineral salts. Down, from the leaves to the roots, the phloem transports woody juice (water + nutrients). In summer, large deciduous trees like myself can lose up to 300 liters of water through evapora- tion. This amount would have been even greater if breathing had not evolved to occur on the underside of the leaves. You need to know that there are no hydrophytic trees. The body of the hydrophytes is completely or partially submerged in water. And we are terrestrial beings with you.

 

Thank you very much for this interview. You were…

 

Moment! Do you want me to recite your latest poem?

 

Of course!

 

A new day, a new sunrise, start new, new fates. They hide fire burning the waking morning rays. Life reveals every song, tune flying from a cool whiff in the green forests. Soak heavy, tired branches in a stream of clear breeze dozing. And a sip of freshness, a living divine they have a dream. Fog wraps around like a cloak nature rubbing eyes. Drops light on mirror lake play a mysterious dance. Wet silhouettes move below the trees and leaves. Aromas of forest air fill with grace. A new day, a new sunrise, start new, new fates.

 

Wonderful! And does it have a name?

 

Dawn.

 

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