Trees

‘Apprehend God in all things, for God is in all things.’  So said Meister Eckhart.

In this woodland garden, trees are a constant reminder to us of the Presence, branches soaring heavenward, roots hidden deep in the earth. I had no idea before we came to live here that there were different types of oak tree. Amongst the rhododendron and silver birch, we think there are two different sorts in the garden – a couple of Sessile and maybe an English oak. There is another just over the fence in the woods which seems to have adopted us – at least that’s how it feels when the leaves drop!  We often wonder how old they are – a hundred years maybe – young for oak. We are the guests here, enjoying the hospitality of their presence.  I discover each year another sapling growing where the squirrels have hidden their store and am amazed by how deep the tap root of an oak sapling grows. It is also possible to fill a wheelbarrow full with acorns each autumn – each one a potential oak tree – imagine, a forest in a barrow! The canopy is home to birds and insects, lichen and all sorts of other life in micro form.  And then there is the autumn carpet of leaves which is beginning to form again. Wonderful to behold.  

On my walks through the woods behind us, there are other oaks which silently inspire and speak to my spirit. There is ‘fallen oak’, which fell in the storm of ’87. Over the years, our children have climbed it, made dens around the trunk lying amongst bluebells and I have from time to time sat in the crook of a branch reading, or just sat delighting. Until recently, ‘fallen oak’ has come into leaf each year with a regular crop of acorns. This season it is waning, limbs darkened, bark flaking, its bulk shrinking into the ground. Fallen, waning, yet present and beautiful, an icon of the natural rhythm and mystery of life. I am deeply thankful as I touch, pause and walk my way home.

Peace be with you

When I am among the trees,

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,

in which I have goodness, and discernment,

and never hurry through the world

but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves

and call out, “Stay awhile.”

The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,

“and you too have come

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled

with light, and to shine.”

Mary Oliver