In conversation with trees

A van trip

I was four years old when I first heard it. I have a very vivid memory of hearing something from the huge tree that towered over me. I lent into the tree to listen more carefully and I heard it again. While my siblings were playing in the stream I was resting against the tree until my dad asked me if I want to play in the stream. I said ‘no I am listening to the tree.’ With a big smile on his face he said ‘what is it saying’ and I said ‘it is not saying anything, it is breathing.’ My dad shook his head and that was the end of that conversation. However, it was not the end of my encounters with trees.

It reaches even deeper into my personal history. When I was a baby I would be put outside in a pram in all weathers under a small willow tree in our garden. My mum says I was very content and even now when I close my eyes I can see the willow branches swaying in the breeze.

However, consciously, it has been from my first encounter with the tree that breathed that my love affair with trees established itself deep within my soul. This week, I went to visit the trees as I do most days but this time it was a new location thanks to my darling wee van, Willow. Now you know why she is called Willow. I parked her facing a glorious view before heading down the footpath to the fairy glen.

After a glorious walk through the trees I arrived at the fairy glen and it did not disappoint.

Bursting with native trees nestled into a wee glen this space is my soulful heaven. It is a place that I instantly felt at home with as I moved from one tree to another listening carefully. These are happy trees allowed to thrive away from the pine tree plantations that still dominate the island. This is a community owned woodland to be very proud of. There was some damage after the recent huge storm in February but there is signs that the custodians know when to despatch and when to leave well alone and that is important for this habitat to thrive. Bluebells are showing their green leaves and the moss colonies are simply enchanting. Towering well above them all is a magnificent beech tree that commands the space with gentle authority.

The water is clear and warm and insects are darting about in the sunshine. I suspect later in the year I will find dragonflies here…. Leaning against the majestic beech I heard the familiar sound of an exhale and I was content the tree is well and strong.

My relationship with trees has been life long so in that time I have learnt so much about not just the individual species but also what they do as a collective. A visit to Culloden Moor some years back filled me with a mix of profound sadness, for so many lives lost, blended with a sense of hope as I witnessed the early nature colonisers - the humble birch. The birch arrived first and the rest of nature followed and now the memorial site is full of life.

Understanding the language of trees is important to me and I have a couple of references to share if you are interested -

• The secret language of trees Gill Davies

• How to read a tree - Tristan Gooley

• In addition anything by Glennie Kindred

Understanding tree families is central to how I listen to trees as that enables me to understand personality traits without getting bogged down by individual species and their differences. By understanding and mapping trees you can, of course, start to understand patterns in woodland development. You start to look for things you expect to see and at that stage you are really on your way to understanding families of trees. You learn to recognise healthy versus diseased trees and learn to speak to the hearts of the trees that surround you as you wander.

I am perpetually intoxicated by tree folklore and Glennie Kindred has been my guide for many years. My property is called Hazelbank after a beautiful line of hazel trees but my heart was, long ago, lost to the willow. Willow speaks to our intuitive souls and it has become my confidant in my creative journey through life. Claude Monet painted a series of weeping willows to honour french soldiers who died in world war 1. When you have a favourite tree family you seem to gather all sorts of bits of information about it. It is like getting to know a friend who stays around for a while.

I return to when I was 4 and I first heard a tree exhale. It changed everything about me and around me. It created a thirst for knowlege and understanding of trees that remain with me today in my 61st year. I am quite sure my birth family did not understand this fascination as I remember often wandering off on my own to listen to the trees while out on family walks. Fast forward many years and in 2013 my children and I took part in a rewilding week as part of home school. Two of my boys were tasked to sit with their backs against a chosen tree and just sit there for an hour. I feared that this would not go well because an hour seemed a big ask of two boys…..I was completely wrong. Within minutes we stopped chatting and all three of us just sat their connected to our trees and I couldn’t believe an hour passed so quickly. As we were getting up my youngest, Max, said ‘that was a bit weird, I am sure I heard the tree breath out.’ I smiled and said ‘Of course you did, so did I’. And so the love affair with trees continues, just as it should.

Postscript

Back at my darling van, Willow, I made the coffee and contemplated how my encounter with the trees, that make up fairy glen, has shifted me. For me, it is the walk down passed all the colonising birch trees and the anticipation of what is to come that is just so special. Since my visit to Culloden Moor birch trees have had a special place in my heart. In this new walk they marked the way to the glen and once there the world stood still enabling me to reach into the glen with every beat of my heart and listen. Despite the obvious busy birdsong it was the soundscape of the trees swaying in the wind that captivated me once more. It is a special place that I feel honoured to have visited and I will visit again, next time with my sketchbook. These small glens on our beautiful island are just pockets of joy and I am so pleased to be sharing it with all of you and who knows maybe fairies do live amongst the trees…..

Welcome to my wee corner of Substack. I am a seasonal artist living on the Isle of Arran, off the west coast of Scotland. I am the custodian of approximately two acres of land that includes a woodland, a meadow and my wee garden. I offer a seasonal book arts project for paid subscribers if you are interested and you can read more about that HERE. Grab a cuppa and lets delve into our relationship with the shifting seasons…