There’s something about monotonous work with power equipment that sets my mind free. Let me run the brush hog for a couple hours, and I’ll come back to my desk with an article already written in my mind; send me out to plow snow on the ATV, I may return with a poem.

Turn me loose with a chain saw, where decisions such as which tree goes and which tree stays must be made, and I’ll turn philosophical.Near my house is a misshapen white birch tree, once struck by lightning. The heart of it was divided by that bolt, yet it sprouted out with two sides. The two sides grew out wildly, laden with branches, yet both reached for the sun and met again near the tree’s top. There’s an ugly and awkward beauty to that tree.My friends T.J. and Lindsay worked with me for days to thin that section of woods, and by some wordless agreement we went around that tree and left it standing. We figured a survivor like that ought to remain. We couldn’t just cut it down because it was different from all the other trees.In another section, dozens of birch trees vie for light and nourishment. Since they are so crowded, they’ve grown long, crooked and spindly. You can count their rings and they’re more than forty years old, very tall, but lacking in substance. Not one of them has a good root system.Although I don’t want to give up on all the birch trees, it’s hard to find a straight one, one that might thrive if given a chance. But none of them got a good start; they were crowded and untended from the time they sprouted. In that section there are also some obvious “keeper” trees — a couple stately maples.I’m looking at the trees and my mind is thinking of kids trying to grow up in a crummy, crowded city. Not one of them has a good root system or a good start; is there a chance that some of them might be “keepers” in disguise?While I’ve been lost in thought, T.J. and Lindsay have been marking trees. T.J. went to school for this stuff. They have a plan — we’re going to open up the canopy, let a bunch of these birch trees find out what it’s like to grow up with plenty of space, light and nourishment.You don’t want a monoculture, T.J. says, where every tree is the same. That’s not a healthy forest.Funny, isn’t it? Such a simple truth, and obvious in the outdoors. Some trees are so misshapen they are beautiful. Many have different colors of bark and shapes and purpose; many look very much alike. They are all reaching for the same things — a little nourishment, a little light, a chance.They all have a place. The healthiest forest is the one with the greatest diversity.