I dispense with the usual formalities of conversing and jump right in.
‘So, I see you are flourishing. You must like it here.’
A breeze shifts in the upper branches and they bend toward me.
‘I’ll take that as a yes?’
Leaves rustle softly.
‘The thing is, you are doing well at the expense of others. Have you thought about that? Does it bother you at all?’
A crowd of noisy miners flock to perch above me, picking through the Old Man’s Beard (Tillandsia) and epiphytic orchids at home on the slender trunk. Ants trek upwards in single file. A Golden Orb spider weaves her silken threads between branches.
‘Yes. I see your point,’ I concede. ‘You provide for other creatures, other life forms.’ Trees are never silent, you see. But to hear, one must tune-in to their esoteric arboreal language.
‘However,’ I persist, ‘you must admit, those plants at your feet struggle for a share of sunlight which grows increasingly less as you branch out and reach further skyward,’ I say. While trees are rarely silent, they can be sullen and sulky sometimes. Minutes march past like the ants.
‘Please don’t misunderstand me,’ I say, more conciliatory now, as I wrap my arms around the narrow trunk and lay my cheek against the smooth cool bark.
‘I love the work you do. I love your being here.’ I feel the life force like an energy field surging upwards. ‘And yes, it was me who decided where you would live,’ I reply with insight offered by reflection.
‘I have an idea,’ I say, as a light bulb flicks on. The woman who lives in my head is at home.
Half an hour later, formerly sad little ground orchids look happier in their sunny new home. I brush the dirt from my trowel. The shade-loving hair’s foot ferns nestles at the base of my tree. Striped bromeliads hunker down beside them into the newly vacated space.
I sip my tea and survey a problem resolved, one caused simply by a slip of judgement. I hadn’t given enough thought to the future potential when I planted the sapling. I didn’t listen to my tree’s needs.
My tree and I get on much better these days. So much can be resolved by just having a conversation. Sometimes I am my best listener.
Silence is one of the great arts of conversation.
That’s the thing about gardens, isn’t it? They change in ways we don’t expect.
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I have difficulty imagining how they will change, April. This is what gives rise to these sorts of problems
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Again – love it you closet tree hugger you!! Xx
Sent from my iPhone
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Thanks! Trees are under-rated.
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I never thought of talking to my own garden plants, but it is definitely a good idea.
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You’ll be surprised how much you’ll learn just by posing the questions.
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Must try it some time.
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Let me know if you make contact.
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I will !
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Lovy story. I like your garden.
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Amazing how problems can be solved with a bit of lateral thinking. And talking to trees is important although I don’t know if that’s for me or the tree! But I do it.
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I knew it! Important for you both.
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Lovely post…thank you!
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Thanks for visiting and for your kind words, Valerie
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Good life lessons in this story.
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That’s what my garden, including the tree, is for me. The lessons pop up everywhere. And I didn’t plant one.
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Ents took a long time to say anything too
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Haha! You’re right Brenda. But then I don’t speak ant so probably missed it.
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I love that you had a conversation with the tree to solve the problem!
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Andrea I think the listening did the trick.
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Haha… brilliant Robyn!
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Thanks Jude! I haven’t visited you in a while but will soon. Glad you enjoyed the post.
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Lovely!! We should all listen more closely to our trees
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Thank you! You are so right. Taking time to listen in nature is it’s own reward.
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your writings bring to mind the Peter Sellers film ‘Being There’ . . I am sure you would have seen it . . let me know when you compile a book of your modern wisdom and I will be first in line .
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It sounds familiar Sime. Thank you for the vote of confidence.
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I love this, Robyn. I miss conversations with trees, despite the fact that there are plenty round here I seem to have lost the art… instead I talk to birds. 🙂
As a matter of interest – what is the tree in your top photo?
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Hello Val. The tree in the photo is a magnolia Little Gem. Will not grow huge which is good for my limited space. I get over enthusiastic with how much I can fit in and then have these shade issues. Sigh. Birds are great conversationalists. A lot less subtle. I wish I had more like you do. Thanks for visiting!
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I talk to my garden all the time! oxo
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I’m not surprised. It’s the least I would have expected from you. The important part for me is the listening. I need to perfect that skill.
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Good to be thought of that way, Robyn. I actually read somewhere that native Americans exchanged energy with trees by leaning back against one and then running the energy through their own body, into the tree and back. It’s a very calming yet invigorating exercise!😍
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That’s fascinating, Pam. There is definitely energy there – a sentience.
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If you’ve not read it, Robyn, get “The Secret Life of Plants.” It will blow you away!
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Yes! I have it! A fascinating read. Thanks Pam
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😍😍😍 Great minds!
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It’s been some time since I checked into your posts…and what a great one to have waiting for me. I’ll try to stay in touch a little better, maybe even send an email. Cheers! Kim.
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Lovely to hear from you Kim. I guess life gets in the way for all of us. Glad you enjoyed the post.
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I’m hopeful of getting back into my blogging. I just did one now, and have another I want to do as well.
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Ah, you’ve made me feel guilty. I’ve been doing brutal things to an over-grown old rose bush in my yard, and I’m not sure if I explained the necessity.
On the other hand, the blossoms were few and far between last summer, so perhaps the rose bush had its own way of telling me something? And once I can get nearer to its base, I can clear away some of the self-sown opportunists that may be crowding its roots.
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Communication is vital Denise. Perhaps you were having that conversation without realising it – it can happen. The aged among us (tongue firmly in cheek here – I mean, I’m definitely in that category) recognise the care others take to help us out. Your rose bush will bloom her thank yous. Now that’s the kind of conversation I like.
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I’ve always had a kind of affinity for trees and think there’s a lot to be said for interspecies communication if you keep your ears open another. Anyway, this was very enjoyable and interesting to read. One of my favourite of your posts. Thanks for sharing. Really liked the idea.
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I’m glad the idea resonated with you Luke. Thanks for visiting
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nice article, the ways u can understand your tree at your garden
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Thank you. I hope you took something useful from my perspective.
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As a fellow tree hugger, I get it. I talk to every living thing, I suppose. Glad you discovered those shade lovers. I’m a shade lover too. Thanks so the follow. I hope to keep your interest. If I get boring, please gently let me know. Ha
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All ‘fellow tree huggers’ are welcome Lisa. I have visited your blog and it’s anything but boring. Being fair skinned and born in cooler climes, I’m a shade dweller too. That’s why we need trees!
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Amen. I’m not even a sunroof fan. As a former sun worshipper it’s hard to admit but shade is my friend. And my skin’s friend. I should have listened to my mother. Hard headed young thing back in the day.
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Weren’t we all! Mothers knew nothing then. Where did all their wisdom go between birth and our teen years? Bled out though worry?
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I have a weed that is taking over my garden – Bishops Weed. I think I’ll have a chat with it today!
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It’s amazing what can come from earnest conversation. Solutions appear in my mind – from whence do they come? I don’t know Bishop’s Weed
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The Bishop has settled into my gardens and I spend much time ripping him out. There’s a religious lesson there somewhere for a Catholice girl turned atheist, methinks????
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Hahaha! A metaphor perhaps.
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