The more we pay attention to trees the more we become them; it’s something to do with the way our perceptions are wired; and as we get older …

Apropos of your thoughtful remark I was reminded of a story by Bruce Fellows entitled 'Honor Oak Old Cemetery' which I read in 'The Young Writer of the Year, 1969' published by Pergamon Press. The book had many excellent stories. I have read them all several times. I can't find it just now, it's in an unlabelled cardboard box somewhere. I don't think the story helps remotely with your assertion that we become trees. Only the word 'oak' strikes a chord. I shall be an oak. Or maybe a beech.

Excellent capture!