What is the best time to visit a tree? How about tuning into an early-summer morn warming to the gentle gleam?
Recently I learnt that mornings are my prime time. This would have stayed unnoticed as I live past the hours quickly; like a silver bead swiftly sliding down the thread, as it hits the bottom of the string, you pick up another and so it begins again.
5:36a.m., I woke up early today. Laying in bed for some time, then at 6:30a.m. I decided to do this for the first time (I know it’s not uncommon for some people, but for some reason I felt like today is finally the day). I got changed into something comfy and light, plucked two bread slices into the toaster before I started combing my hair, so I was ready to go as the bread jumped. Butter and jam spread, children package juice from the fridge, dropped the keys and phones into my pockets so I spared wearing a bag.
The park sat just across the road. There were no people in sight on a bank holiday morning so I felt quite priviledged, but the park was far from quiet. Enthusiastic birds chattered amidst tree branches along the path through the thin woods. Clearly they knew they are more legitimate owners of the wild than us humans, as they shouted their loud cries across distances with no limits of manners. I wondered if they know who among the mixed cries they are responding to, but since there was some uniqueness in different bird species’ expression, probably they knew.
After some pauses to look at snails and new-grown buttercups, I reached the lake and the weeping willows. The scene was quite magical. The sound in the air transmitted from close to the ground, a soft and steady hustling like murmurs. It almost helped to visualize gentle air current brush across hanging branches, drawing you closer to rest under the generous shades. The willow leaves were cloaked in a glowing greenish yellow. It was more yellow than green, maybe due to more rays reflecting than the leaf-green coming through. “Chartreuse” would be a fancy French name for this color. The morning light was so crisp that it outlined all textures, so the trees stood out strong and firm, however so calm and almost wise.
Some liked the idea of “spirit animal”, or reliable animal companions, or “compassionate others”; like the tiger of Pi, the daemons in The Golden Compass or Abu in Aladdin. I came across an exercise to imagine this “compassionate other”, from which book suggested it could be a person or an animal. Now, what about trees? Not just one single tree like that from your childhood, or a speaking grandmother-willow in Pocahontas, but maybe different trees that speak into different seasons in your life? Trees that were planted there for a century-old reason, but today they exist for you and anyone who simply gain feelings from their company.
Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds!
- Luke 12:24
27.05.24
