I once met a humbly learned individual by the name of Mario, an indigenous person who lived most of his life in the rain forest, far from any modern convenience. He told me he left the simple life he loved because he wanted his son to go to school, and learn to read and write. The park service there offered to give he and his family good clothing, a small salary, teach them English in exchange for a job as a tour guide, as his knowledge of trees and plants was extensive. He spoke with a reverence for the plants and animals of the jungle and for life I have seen in few ministers.
He pointed to a huge tree, (kind of like this one that my grandfather planted) towering above all the rest and said to me, Ron, this is the Grandfather tree, and within its limbs and crevices, as you can see is a forest in itself, within which seeds, the hopes of all future rain forests rely. A tree is like a word that grows.