A Time for Trees
Notes from the canopy
Come with me today into the ‘leaping greenly spirit of trees’, in the words of one of my favourite poems from e.e. cummings. Our rooted, life-giving friends have been much in my company of late and that is always a good thing.
Woods of Wonder
I wrote about the delight of trees growing out of trees in my latest piece for the Guardian Country Diary , where you can also read a great sprouting of comments as others share their own weird and wonder-ful encounters. I was an avid tree climber as a child, sometimes lying down in the crook of branches to look up into the shifting light and colours of the canopy. I pretended I lived up there and this was my bed, closing my eyes for a snooze (whether real or pretend I can’t remember). These days I usually content myself with sitting back against a trunk or hugging it or resting my tired head against a great old tree and being thankful that it is alive and here and helping me breathe.
Tree Talk
It is in honour of these gracious old beings that I call my occasional online hang-outs Tree Talk. The idea is that we gather under the virtual spreading branches of a big tree, as people in so many cultures have done for time immemorial, to rest together and tell our tales. We held just such a gathering a few weeks ago and I was delighted that a dozen souls joined me as I shared about my recent research trip – with slides! A huge thank you to those who came and were so interested and supportive – it makes a huge difference in an online world where you can wonder if anyone is listening. You came and you listened. Thank you.
Tree Talk is completely free and open to all subscribers – my Fellow Pilgrims – and I try to shift the timings around so folks from all over get a chance to join in. I’m planning on another one in August, so make sure you subscribe and keep an eye out for the link. (If you are getting this into your email inbox, you ARE a subscriber.)
The Photowalk
I had a very special time under real trees with the good people of The Photowalk Retreat an hour north of me on the Black Isle. This was my third year bringing a nature encounter + writing workshop to this week-long retreat for photographers run by the wonderful Neale James and Lynn Fraser. I’ve loved each one. As I wrote to them afterwards: Clearly, your work attracts people who are deep-thinking, searching, exploratory, open to learning from one another and willing to be honest and vulnerable. And yet, there are so many laughs as well. It’s a joy.
This year we entered a quite profound conversation about how we express ourselves in words; how it is possible to have a strong inner sense about something but struggle to find language that conveys it. But also, how that very struggle to find language for our feelings, ideas and experiences actually helps us recognise what we are trying to say. It teaches us who we are and what we think; it reveals and shapes as much as it conveys. We also recognised that the task of art – in the broadest sense, including literature – is to offer something to the receiver that allows the artist’s vision to grow in them. Sometimes, all that is needed is the seed and our struggle comes when we try to give them the whole tree.
Photowalk Retreats will be running again next year and I’m hoping to be involved, other commitments permitting. To find out more and book a place on these warm, small-group gatherings, follow here.
Holy Holly
One of the remarkable tree bonds I wrote about for the Guardian was a hawthorn and holly pair that I discovered beside a holy well in Wales. It was part of a two-week exploration in the area for my current work in progress, a book about the North Wales Pilgrim’s Way. I will be walking the route solo in September but wanted to visit some key sites that are not on the trail. As it happens, I ended up at a few that are, but I’m so glad I got the chance for a preview! In the middle of the fortnight, I spent four days at St Beuno’s Jesuit Spirituality Centre which was pure gift, though I am still trying to figure out how to embed the blessings of silence, depth and a digital fast into ordinary life.
I have given some glimpses into the trip in Substack Notes which are pasted at the bottom of this letter, if you would like to follow along. More to come! (Also posted on Instagram and Facebook.)
The Novel that Was, Is and Is to Come
You may recall from my previous letter, On Relays and Reality, that I had to return to the purportedly ‘finished’ novel manuscript to do quite a lot more work. The reasons for this are bound up with something quite exciting and still classified (I did whisper a hint to my Tree Talk companions) but I am hugely delighted and relieved to say that, as of an email this morning, it is finished! (Well, until a proof-reader gets hold of it – and possibly a sensitivity reader? AI detector? what next? – but for now, I’m celebrating!) Let that be official permission for you to crack open the bubbly, or at least crack a smile. (You can read all about the novel here.) Both title and publication date have changed, so stay tuned for all the news.
Heartfelt
Thank you, again, for reading and caring. I am always honoured by the gift of attention (995 subscribers, as I write)! It would be fun to break the 1000 milestone, so if you think of anyone who might enjoy these navigational notes from the writing life, do please share.
I have been especially surprised and grateful for those who have chosen to add financial support and become Lantern Keepers. This is a huge encouragement and helps me keep the letters free for everyone. (But, please feel no pressure to maintain it or for others to follow suit. Everyone’s circumstances are different and many of you Fellow Pilgrims already support me in countless other ways and give your money to countless other causes. Those acts of generosity are equally important to me.)
All for now, and until we meet again, go hug some trees!
Merryn
