Today is a big day for a lot of people, a reason for parties, celebrations, emotional roller coasters and a long day of festivities with friends. Only once a year does it all come together as grandly as this Sunday each year. Wouldn’t it be great to have this level of interest and excitement more than once a year?

I have chosen a more subdued approach, though I still have interest and excitement. As for the football game that some of you are thinking about, I quit watching it after my sons grew up and away. That doesn’t mean that I cannot have a Super Bole Sunday, or any day for that matter.

A bit of clarification might be in order. A bole is the trunk of a tree up to the point where the crown (branches) begins. Every time I go for a walk or go fishing or get outdoors, I appreciate the variety of super boles I encounter along the way. The textures of bark vary dramatically from somewhat smooth to the layers of pine or the roughness of oak. I am not a botanist, so I don’t know many tree species by sight, but I am a fan of trees. I particularly enjoy boles in winter when the crown, for most types of trees, are bare.

Trees fascinate me, though I am not likely to pen a poem to compare to Joyce Kilmer’s “Trees.” I admire their beauty, utility and adaptability. I ponder what they have witnessed as they grow over years, decades and, sometimes, centuries. I admire all that they provide to a wide variety of animals, from the birds that live in their branches to the beavers who use them to build homes.

While lot of attention and admiration is bestowed to the branches and leaves, I am intrigued by the trunks where a lot of indicators reveal the tree’s battles over the years. As dynamic as the crown of a tree can be with its leaves changing through the seasons and the branches growing and breaking, the trunk is a stalwart. In fact, it is super.

Look around any time you are outside and notice below the crown of the tree. You’ll have a super bole day, no matter what day of the week it is.