As I sat on my favorite back porch step, where the sun perfectly hangs above and casts warmth over me, I heard the trees.
There is a subtle way they speak to me. They work with other elements like the wind, rain, and sun. My favorite way they get my attention is through the sound of wind moving past their long limbs. It has been much quieter lately because of what we call stick season in Vermont. They have also been hibernating. Their energy rooting deep into the Earth.
It has been a few months since I sat on the back porch.
But now we are entering Spring. It has been really cool to witness the changes. Since last week, it seems the seagulls got word to leave their Winter hibernation rituals. They have been so active and loud. There’s so many of them flying above and chattering with excitement. Buds on trees have formed, and the top of tulips are growing rapidly in the garden that hugs our driveway.
I’m excited because hearing the tree talk to me this afternoon meant they are waking from hibernation too.
They wanted attention and for me to film them for my daily vlog. It started with the wind. The sound drew my gaze up. Then I saw how beautiful the limbs were, swaying in the breeze. I felt in my heart a connection of love, and an inner knowing and voice with the communication “they want attention”. It’s really adorable how much nature wants to connect with us humans. They dance for us, make music for us, and delight us with their unique shape of branches and leaves or pines.
This moment in my backyard inspired me to write something that has been on my list. Since last year, I received communication they wanted their story to be heard.
Through my eyes, here it is.
…
The trees of this backyard has been in my life since I was born.
I played under the low hanging pine branches with my sisters and neighborhood kids. The branches created an enclosed space that we’d play “house” under. I remember the bush where I pretended to have a fire where I’d cook.
The large maple was my jungle gym. With bare feet I’d hoist myself up there and maneuver around the dry and crackly bark. Wincing a little as the rough edges dug into my soft feet and hands. As the youngest, pretty early on I was up there by myself. The fun of it dissipated as my sisters grew up and stopped playing outside. I became less patient with the mosquitos and at some point I became self conscious. As I sat in the tree I could be seen by my neighbors, and I felt shy to be up there by myself. I guess I grew older too.
In the Spring the maple drips sap, and in the fall the leaves transforms into a vibrant orange and yellow ball of fire.
The leaves that fell created the perfect material for jumping into with a gleeful smile. But once we had two little dogs, the dog poop deterred me and that activity came to an end.
Then there is the sister tree. She works with the sun to create the perfect place to cool off under her branches. As I lay there, the leaves create dancing shadows mixed with light and shapeshifts across the yard as the day progresses into night.
Last summer I realized she was sick. A large hole that continues to widen as bugs, grubs and some sort of infection chew away her core. I gave her a spiritual bath and TLC to help, but I have a sad feeling in my heart, she’s coming to her end. Leaves still sprout from most of the limbs, and that gives me hope her spirit is present. On one of the branches that appear “dead” a bird couple came and started working on creating a nest for their soon to be baby.
The small woodpeckers would work on it every day. Peck by peck they created a beautiful hole within the branch. I discovered this while laying beneath. Wood chips fell from the sky on to my face. Quickly I began to investigate and saw a little bird tossing wood shavings through a hole they created.
The little bird was born and we heard a hungry chirp most of the days following. The parents would come when they could to feed the bird. It was so exciting to witness.
Sadly I also witnessed an early end to this baby. They were so excited to eat from the parent they leaned too far out of the hole and fell.
We dug a grave for her in our pet cemetery. We said prayers and laid flowers around her body.
It was so sad and heartbreaking to see them come back to their nest and see it empty. They searched around confused. The following day we found a feather from the woodpecker in our yard. One of the parents shared their gratitude for how we cared for their treasure.
To watch the process from the very beginning I was struck by this experience. No matter how much work you put in, there is always a gamble whether the efforts will flourish into full form or not. It just means they try again the following year. I’m sure I put my own emotional spin on the experience, but that’s why humans are amazing. We get to experience the world through a very complex system of sensations and consciousness.
Although it can be very challenging and overwhelming, it is also a treasure and gift. I feel so blessed every time I get to connect with nature and truly be with them. The feeling is pure gold.
I love the trees of my backyard. I know their roots run deep and I am so grateful for the way they have embraced me throughout my childhood into adulthood with love, tenderness, and care. They have brought me so much light and protection in the darkest moments of my life. The large maple feels like a grandmother watching over me.
Each tree has its own character and spirit. Simply in the shape, the seasonal changes, and the way it interacts with other trees, plants, and animals of the yard, creates these differences.
The most beautiful thing about these trees, is that they were planted by my great grandmother Sarah Labelle.
The intentionality of care continues to ripple out and be felt for generations that have come since she first planted them.
Nature holds so much wisdom about life. It is always teaching me. Reminding me to slow down, and listen with all of my senses.
