By Scott Shephard
The standard definition of a volunteer is “a person who freely offers to take part in an enterprise or undertake a task.” Examples: “Of course I would volunteer to sample every one of Baskin-Robbins’ ice cream flavors.” or “No, I don’t think I want to be the first to volunteer to try your new parachute design. Or the second. Or ever.”
Interestingly, there is another definition of “volunteer” that seems to be opposite: A volunteer can be “a plant that has not been deliberately planted.” Examples: “I did not intend for the dandelions that pop up in my back yard to be there. They are volunteers.”
Like dandelions, these trees growing along a rural fence line north of my home town didn’t ask to be here. Are they accidents? Or are they part of a Plan? I can’t say.
But I will say that, like these trees, I am a South Dakota volunteer. I didn’t ask to be a resident. My parents didn’t “transplant” me from some other state or country. Am I a random occurrence or part of a plan? I can’t answer that, either.
It seems obvious, though, that at age 69 and living 100 miles away from where I was born, I am like these trees: I have South Dakota roots. I’ll admit that on some cold, windy winter days, I fantasize about living where it’s always warm. On a morning like the one pictured here, however, I know why I will not uproot myself.
Wrapped in beautiful fog and pristine silence, and all alone with my fellow volunteers, I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.
Canon R5 f 4.5 100 sec ISO I80