October set my book on the table with the page she was reading splayed face down. She scribbled her signature on the checks and then picked up the book again. Looking at Rae, she said, “The tallest tree in the entire world lives in a park in Northern California.”

Rae feigned interest, but I could tell she didn’t really comprehend what October was trying to tell her. I walked over to join the conversation and noticed Rae didn’t have any nuts and raisins with her. This meant she wasn’t staying long.

“Hyperion,” I said. Rae and October both looked at me. “That’s the name of the tree. It’s about 380 feet tall.”

“Three hundred and eighty feet?” October exclaimed. “That’s as tall as the Empire State Building!” She seemed to find this awe-inspiring. Rae acted like it was ordinary, but probably only because I said it.

“I camped in that park after Hyperion was discovered,” I told them. “It’s phenomenal.”

I turned to a photo of Hyperion and pointed it out to Rae. In the photo, a man was standing beside the tree. He was listed as being six feet eight inches tall, and that really showed the scale, because he looked like a tiny toy soldier that had been placed beside an upright bass.

Rae’s eyes finally widened, and she said, “Wow. That is big, yeah?”

I flipped back a few pages and pointed to Giant Tree. “This one’s my favorite. He’s not the biggest or the prettiest, but in person he really moves me.”

“He moves you?” Rae said, with a slightly comic tone.

“Where does he live?” October asked.

“Avenue of the Giants. In Humboldt. I once drove all the way there, had lunch with him, and drove home.”

Rae said, “Did you sing ‘Kumbaya’ to him too?”

I chuckled. “That’s actually funny, Rae.”

“You know, I can be funny, Joe.”

October said, “Let me see.”

I pointed. “Look at the way the sunlight reaches down through his crown. Incredible, right?”

October said, “I can’t believe I’ve lived here for as long as I have and didn’t know about these trees. I thought the trees in Muir Woods were giants.”

I could tell Rae was paying close attention to the way October and I were bonding over the trees. Or maybe she was just surprised by my passion and enthusiasm, which was rarely on display in front of her, or anyone for that matter.

I handed the book back to October and said, “I could talk about trees all day, but I have a birdcage to finish.”

I went back to my corner—I was about two full workdays away from being done. Meanwhile, Rae went into the office and printed something on the computer and then left to run errands.