The glory of trees

I can’t live without trees.

Where I live in the bush, we see grand old trees every day; ancient apple box and yellow box that have endured for decades.

Our eucalypts are different from the trees in Europe but they have adapted to this dry land.

Sadly many non native trees have succumbed to this prolonged drought and I find them each day on the edges of my garden.

Two years ago we visited the Royal Gardens in Prague and walked amongst the ancient trees. All had a number and a plaque explaining their origin.

I stood in front of a giant horse chestnut tree.

Today I am dragging the hoses around to try and save more trees so that each morning we can still be delighted by the choral symphony of the birds that greet the dawn.

And this morning I am delighted by a poem by Mary Oliver called ‘When I am Among the Trees’.

Here it is:

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, and 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.”