Nothing Ever Happens

The forest had all but been cut clean, save a solitary spruce tree that was saved because of its attractive shape and unusually large girth and height. The new owner of the lot had decided it could provide the land with some character, and it could also nicely raise the property value of the house to be built. The tree had stood for at least a hundred years, surviving season after season of intense snow storms and scorching summer mayhem. The tree's seeds made up part of the forest around it. The squirrels and chipmunks were often found under its boughs, and birds welcomed the cones especially in the winter. It was not unusual to see a moose hiding under it during vicious storms. But now a construction worker stood under it, hiding in the shade from the sweltering summer sun, smoking on his lunch break. The stub that had not been properly put out started the fire. Nobody noticed the tree, dry from the heat, robed in flames, until it was too late. The fire department put out the flaming stump, and all that was left was a dark frame of a tree. A few hours later, while nobody was looking, charred cones released their seeds.