The Tree Path

"Trees mean something to us."

Trees mean something to us. Ancient trees give us pause. They tell us something about our place and ourselves. If we are afraid of mortality, uninterested in history, see only income or outputs, they will not engage us. If we are merely collectors of size or age or nobbliness we may miss significance of other kinds. Something within our culture has enabled many trees to live a long time, is it merely perchance? Pollarded hornbeams or sweet chestnut may have lent an air of age to a newly laid out estate. Venerable coppiced ash may have survived simply doing their jobs. But well beyond the prosaic, old yews and oaks carry their sacredness still. In John Clare's words they own:

a language by which hearts are stirred
deeper than by a feeling clothed in word

from The Fallen Elm
from Trees be Company

Mostly trees can be depended upon to stay where they are. They live longer than we do, grow bigger, reach into the underworld and the heavens. In most cultures of the world they draw us to their shade to pass on news, exchange goods, debate issues, decide futures, listen to history and to muse.

Some trees give us hope by seeming to die and then to revive each year, others remain forever green. Through them we gain some humility, some understanding of the transience of our own existence.

As protagonist or mentor, dependable confidente, repository of the numinous, lightning rod for group memory, the tree can help us to ponder and to tell our stories. Their currency is allegory, their magic is longevity and real presence.

Pictures include:
(Centre) Yew at much Marcle; (Right) Boundary Oak on Hampstead Heath, London

"Some localities are defined by their trees..."