"Trees are your best antiques"

Alexander Smith’s assertion that “Trees are your best antiques” casts trees as living witnesses of history, surpassing crafted artifacts in their age and dignity. Unlike human-made antiques, furniture, pottery, artwork, trees are the original keepers of time. They persist for centuries, growing year by year, rings inscribed in their trunks serving as nature’s own records. An ancient oak or redwood can trace its lineage farther back than most heirlooms found in museums or private collections.

The idea challenges conventional perceptions of value and legacy. Antiques are typically seen as treasures, physical objects invested with monetary or sentimental worth, prized for their craftsmanship and rarity. Yet, their beauty is inert. Trees, on the other hand, pulse with life. Their continual growth is both a metaphor for resilience and a literal embodiment of endurance.

Smith’s statement is also an invitation to see the world differently. Trees are often overlooked in conversations about inheritance and pride in the past; they’re simply part of the landscape. By calling them “the best antiques,” the phrase elevates these natural wonders, suggesting that the greatest treasures aren’t just found in auction houses but in forests, parks, and even backyards.

Furthermore, trees bear silent testimony to generations. The same tree may have shaded childhood games, served as a family meeting spot, or watched over changing eras. Unlike antiques, which require preservation in controlled settings, trees survive on their own, cared for (or neglected) by succeeding hands. Their presence in communities fosters a sense of continuity and place.

Ultimately, Smith assigns value to the organic, to living things that remember silently, growing older without losing their purpose. Trees, after all, give us air, habitat, and beauty. Their antiquity is not just a matter of age, but of ongoing contribution, a reminder that some of the world’s most precious wonders need only to be noticed, not owned.