For the Love of Trees

I’d like to dedicate this blog post to trees.

Big trees, small trees, old trees and new trees. The trees that stay green all year round, the trees that don’t and the trees with no choice – standing skeletons, bleached bark and leafless limbs.

A blog about a newly blossoming love affair with trees.

It comes in response to last weeks National Tree Week, where the Tree Council encourage communities across the country to plant, plant, plant. Originally started in 1973 as a response to the fallout left behind from the Dutch Elm Disease epidemic of the 60’s. It has run every year since, and charities, schools, community groups and lots of others have got their hands dirty and become fully fledged tree planting advocates.

Now, I’m no expert, and I will readily hold my hands up and admit that I’ve only just this year begun learning more about these magnificent beings. I still struggle with tree ID, I get my leaves mixed up and I certainly can’t identify a tree by bark or by fresh shoots alone. One day – but not now. Although it gives me an excuse to spend more time forest dwelling and tree gazing, so there is that to be grateful for.

But just because I don’t know my hornbeam from my whitebeam doesn’t mean I can’t marvel in their magic. Because that’s what trees are – magic.

They have an affect on me, that both calms and intrigues me at the same time. There are certain trees that I just can’t walk past without placing my palms flat against its rough bark and staring upwards, gazing dreamily at the maze of branches and twigs dowsed in all the shades of green. It could be the oak at the end of the road, or the twisted yew in the dark of the forest, it might even be the newly established sapling planted prominently in a city centre. I don’t discriminate, and to this day I haven’t found a tree I don’t like.

I don’t have a favourite either, not at the moment anyway. Perhaps I will over time, when I’ve learnt more but for now, I like them all. I love the colours that beech bring to the woods, it’s almost a relief to see the brightness of their green leaves in the spring; fresh and renewed. I like the wiseness of the oak, with it’s twisting branches and shaded seats at the base of gnarled trunks. There’s comfort in the way the yew provides solace, and strength to be taken from the windswept hawthorn on the heath. Each tree has its own unique selling point.

There are also the things they have seen. The wars they’ve witnessed, historical milestones, new leaders, Kings and Queens. The families that have walked beneath them as children gleefully climb the lower limbs. Not to mention the lover’s tiffs, then the scratching of hearts and initials as a peace offering. I always wonder who those letters belong to, as well as wondering of all the things these beings have seen and are yet to see. These trees were here before me and will, with all the hope in the world, stand here long after I have gone.

If they could speak, if they could put into word the things they have seen, what would they say? Or would they still say nothing, stood soaked in silence.

I also wonder what they would think of us. What would they think of how we have behaved over the years? Would they compare our actions now to the ones those that had gone before? Could they foresee problems before we could, and would they offer us counsel.

I like to think that if they do judge us, that they judge us on the action of those tree champions that have planted more of their own. I hope they would judge us based on those that act as advocates for their species, the ones who care for them and tell their stories. That they judge us by National Tree Week.