"Wanted to share this with you. I’m a willow, I spread many roots, have a tangle of branches that dance in the wind, more leaves light and airy than most which suits me fine, in spring my colour is lime like, just in time to fall I silver ever so slightly and occasionally I’m not afraid to say I am a weeping willow! What tree be you my friend? Today I friended a sugar maple, a poplar and a silver birch!"
From a previous post:
"So Lana, upstairs in the cabin, made friends with this enormous tree outside of one of her windows. She'd come down in the mornings and tell me about the movements of the tree, how it was reacting to the sun (light and shadow, ever changing) and how the rustling sound of it soothed her thoughts and kept her present in the moment. The tree was speaking to her every day."
I texted Lana this:
"When we have learned how to listen to trees,” Hermann Hesse wrote in contemplating what our arboreal companions can teach us about belonging and life, “then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy.”
This is one of the pines outside my window. She applauds the weather every day, no matter what dance the wind demands. She trails fog tendrils in her branches, peeking through them on misty mornings. We whisper to each other on soft, still nights.
I Would be a Pine.
I wouldn't be an oak
Or a maple or a larch.
Nor beech nor chestnut
Underneath an arch.
The willow or birch
Are just not me
The pine, now the pine
Is a friend to me.
Strong and green
The whole year through.
Hardy and constant
And prickly too.
Her scent wafts upwards
Then down to the ground
Her branches host juncoes
The whole year 'round.
Her cones burn brightly
In fires red and blue
Her loyal stout heart
Is constant and true.
Only cedars have a scent as lovely as that of the pine! Neither of which do we have in my part of Saskatchewan. When I go to BC it's one thing I particularly appreciate. -KateReplyDelete
You're with me on the smelly trees, Kate?Delete
Lovely! I've loved trees all my life, from the scrubbiest pine to the most majestic redwood. I've heard that trees communicate with each other - not hard to believe. I know they communicate with me!ReplyDelete
I truly believe that Molly, just like the mushrooms reaching out to each other in the secret underground.Delete
Beautiful...I would be a Banyan tree..ReplyDelete
Ah yes, the Banyan - do you have one similar to one of these outside your condo E?Delete
We have oaks loaded with Spanish moss...Delete
or better still, a Panama Tree.ReplyDelete
That's a flowering tree I think. Excellent choices.Delete
What a wonderful thing to think about! The beautiful writing feeds my soul. We just had a majestic, old, decaying maple taken down and it broke our hearts. We pondered how long it took to grow and how quickly it can be gone. We're now planning the new trees we'll plant in an area with more space to expand. I often feel like a crabapple; I know we'll be planting a few of those for their blooms and bird food value, along with a maple or two and a serviceberry which also will be enjoyed by our bird friends. Kim in PAReplyDelete
Kim you might like to read about my dear Mabel the maple who died and rose from the dead. https://wisewebwoman.blogspot.com/search?q=mabel+the+maple.Delete
I love the crabapple blossoms and made some crabapple jam in the fall. I never heard of a service berry, must look it up.
Ah, thanks Kim, she is skimpy but charming. And local.Delete
Oh-h-h, how overly is this poem — the sentiments and emotions aroused and the response you received.ReplyDelete
That’s not what I typed or thought I proofread — lovely not overly!Delete
Must ponder what tree I might be as I love them all — currently admiring my flowering crepe myrtle and still mourning the red maple lost to a beetle infestation years ago. The flowering magnolia tree continues sharing its beauty. Memories come to mind of towering oaks inning both sides of the lane, leaning toward each other to form a canopy with branches entwined reaching welcomingly toward the moisture-filled clouds. They all speak to me.
reaching into the sky
Loverly is a good word too Joared! Crepe myrtle, oh yes, and I've always loved magnolias, I'm not graceful enough to be a magnolia, alas. I remember the dutch elms in Ireland whole avenues with these beauties on each side, diseased and felled.Delete
We need to listen to the trees more.
Just returned from a trip to the northwestern part of USA. Lots and lots of trees. Our favorite part was th Redwoods. I cannot explain the feeling while you are standing among those towering trees. The ferns at the bottom of the trees were as tall as my husband. I could have stayed there for alot longer than we did. Two days!!! I felt a presence of something spiritual there. It is mystical and awe inspiring. What a gift to the earth they areReplyDelete
I remember the redwoods of California,Jennifer, I was so moved by them, overwhelmed with their majesty and secrets - all they had seen, the passing insignificant parade all now vanished and they still living and breathing.Delete
I love live oaks that drip with Spanish moss, and river birches are nice, too. I think I would like to be one of those. :)ReplyDelete
We once lived in a house with an old, gnarled, beautiful wild pear tree. I thought of that tree as an elder woman spirit and nearly cried when we moved away.
I hate leaving my Mabel too, she who had risen from the dead, though I passed her this weekend and she still thrives. Bigger stronger taller.Delete
River birches, how lovely.
Delightful post, WWW! I love to look at the trees when we're out on the road - even roads close to home. In spite of Oklahoma's horrendously hot and dry spells, trees still flourish here.ReplyDelete
Sadly we have had to have three (or is it four?) of our own huge trees Cottonwood and Maple) cut down (at ENORMOUS expense) because they were old and diseased, so posed a danger during tornado/storm times to ours and a neighbouring house. We've made up for the loss by having two Redbud trees planted, and a Crepe Myrtle bush - all growing well currently in spite of near drought conditions. The two Redbuds looked sickly after transplant for months, but came back with aplomb this spring.
I'll be a Redbud then (it's OK's State tree I think). Like our two, I was transplanted - not sure I came back with much aplomb - but I AM still here. ;-)
I remember your sad tale of those trees, T. I truly hate it when trees have to come down. I looked up the redbud and it is beautiful, how colourful.Delete
I hope all is going well with your health :)
I loved reading this even as my heart was breaking for you both. She shows great courage in asking this question as do you for telling her the truth. And, you are right about the meditative nature of tasks. Thanks you.ReplyDelete