Benches?

I look to my right and notice a cedar bench sitting serenely nearby.  The long, wearing bands of cedar tell a story that seldom ever gets noticed.  What do the patterns on the wood mean?  Do they tell a story?  How do all of the random striations get there? Canadians say that gnomes secretly paint and pattern the wood at night.  Alex Jones says that it is the government conducting experiments on park benches.  I reject those ideas and project something completely new forth:  it must be the growth of plant cells.  Osmosis Jones has already shown us that cells are like “little people.”  The only way such distinct patterns could be colored into the cedar is if the Osmosis-Jones like cells did it, obviously.  How else could such beautiful, distinct, one-of-a-kind patterns find their way into something that cannot move?  I know that Ozzy was a bit immature, but I am talking about a tree cell here.  Tree cells are immortal-Shambhala-Buddhist-Beethoven-like miniature people.   Even their uric acid is made of genius.   They are the crafters of the wooden masterpiece known as a Penn State bench.  Eureka!  I have solved the mystery.