plan to make my stack somewhat of a John Burroughs revivalism attempt. I'd give 'The Art of Seeing Things' a try, unless one of his others catches your eye. When he's not geeking out over birds, he's quite the poet, and seen by many as the father of the modern nature writing genre.
Just found you, and your post speaks to me. I'm a late bloomer author, who has studied and worked in plants and gardens, and have a strong affinity to the trees. Your photo of the pollarded beech is powerful, as it the notion that many of its kindred are still alive in Epping Forest. Thank you and all the best in your pursuits!
Thank you so much Mary Ellen, makes me so happy to read this 😊 I'm glad the power of the tree translates via the photo! All the best with your writing x
This carried me away- thank you so much Kate. My little human heart was nodding and smiling the whole time in appreciation for fellow lovers of the forest. And the graphic at the start made me take a big exhale. It's all wonderful.
Love this! I appreciate your curiosity to embark on deepening your relationship with these beings, which you clearly already know on some other personal level. I teach about both plant ID and spiritual plant relationships and see both aspects as valuable ways to engage. Indeed when we get to know other humans, we also engage in multiple ways of knowing them. I hope you enjoy this lens and the new names you find for your old friends in the forest.
Thank you Lindsay - love that idea of plant ID and spiritual plant relationships existing in harmony. I think they enrich each other. I already find trees very spiritual beings and forests very spiritual places so I am hoping improving my knowledge will only deepen that.
I also want to echo back that the more I learn about plants and more broadly about ecosystems, the more I feel that I know nothing! It is humbling when I realize that I am part of such a vast and complex web.
I love your description of your awakening into the wonder of the natural world. Beautiful writing. Funny, I just learned the word pollarded this week when trying to describe some snapped off, ice damaged trees for my newsletter.
This Spring I've been sawing all the downed trees and limbs from some terrible winter storms. Our little timber area looks battle-scarred as climate change brings more ferocious storms to the coast. I am awed by all the trees still standing. Learning the names of things in a new area is like learning a new language, which is always humbling.
Yes, it is, definitely! And a way into history and culture too. Gah, it's so awful to lose trees to climate change, especially knowing that they can help protect us from climate change, so we really need to keep them. I just read about the idea of 'solastalgia', like nostalgia but for the place you're in as it changes around you, or homesickness while still being at home - an effect of climate change on people around the world. I don't know if that chimes with your experience of dealing with the storm-ravaged trees.
Interesting idea, and possibly relevant and things change. We will really feel it here in Maine when the lobsters inevitably move north to colder waters. A way of life will shift for the smaller coastal towns.
Thinking of your interest in fungi, Kate, because the mycorrhizal network connects the trees and plants, and reminds us that the destruction of woodlands for development is not just ‘x’ number of trees to be ‘replaced’, but a whole biological infrastructure that takes generations to evolve.
Your sub-title ‘…feeling humbled…’ makes me think of our senses being mycorrhizal, as we reach out (fingers splayed) to the names, the variants, the interactions, the folklore. For me, the implication of ‘humility’ means merging or communing with something ‘greater’. There’s the tangibility of tree-hugging, literal and metaphorical. We can change with ‘their’ mood. Just being in proximity gives us so much, on many levels. A gentle breeze through the leaves of trees as we contemplate the whole scene, I’m sure, connects us with our neolithic forebears, despite our ‘modern’ filtering of experience.
‘Our’ massive purple beech talks different languages depending on wind direction or intensity. An almost imperceptible breeze provides or provokes the most articulate whisper-words.
Macfarlane has a way with words I am a tad jealous of. Might be the closest we have to a John Burroughs of our age.
Oh, me too! So jealous. I've never read John Burroughs, but now I want to. (Sorry for the belated reply!)
plan to make my stack somewhat of a John Burroughs revivalism attempt. I'd give 'The Art of Seeing Things' a try, unless one of his others catches your eye. When he's not geeking out over birds, he's quite the poet, and seen by many as the father of the modern nature writing genre.
Just found you, and your post speaks to me. I'm a late bloomer author, who has studied and worked in plants and gardens, and have a strong affinity to the trees. Your photo of the pollarded beech is powerful, as it the notion that many of its kindred are still alive in Epping Forest. Thank you and all the best in your pursuits!
Thank you so much Mary Ellen, makes me so happy to read this 😊 I'm glad the power of the tree translates via the photo! All the best with your writing x
This carried me away- thank you so much Kate. My little human heart was nodding and smiling the whole time in appreciation for fellow lovers of the forest. And the graphic at the start made me take a big exhale. It's all wonderful.
Oh gosh thank you so much Jane! What a lovely comment to read. I'm so glad you enjoyed it.
Love this! I appreciate your curiosity to embark on deepening your relationship with these beings, which you clearly already know on some other personal level. I teach about both plant ID and spiritual plant relationships and see both aspects as valuable ways to engage. Indeed when we get to know other humans, we also engage in multiple ways of knowing them. I hope you enjoy this lens and the new names you find for your old friends in the forest.
Thank you Lindsay - love that idea of plant ID and spiritual plant relationships existing in harmony. I think they enrich each other. I already find trees very spiritual beings and forests very spiritual places so I am hoping improving my knowledge will only deepen that.
I also want to echo back that the more I learn about plants and more broadly about ecosystems, the more I feel that I know nothing! It is humbling when I realize that I am part of such a vast and complex web.
I love your description of your awakening into the wonder of the natural world. Beautiful writing. Funny, I just learned the word pollarded this week when trying to describe some snapped off, ice damaged trees for my newsletter.
Haha that's a coincidence! Thanks Tania, glad you enjoyed ❤️
This Spring I've been sawing all the downed trees and limbs from some terrible winter storms. Our little timber area looks battle-scarred as climate change brings more ferocious storms to the coast. I am awed by all the trees still standing. Learning the names of things in a new area is like learning a new language, which is always humbling.
Yes, it is, definitely! And a way into history and culture too. Gah, it's so awful to lose trees to climate change, especially knowing that they can help protect us from climate change, so we really need to keep them. I just read about the idea of 'solastalgia', like nostalgia but for the place you're in as it changes around you, or homesickness while still being at home - an effect of climate change on people around the world. I don't know if that chimes with your experience of dealing with the storm-ravaged trees.
Interesting idea, and possibly relevant and things change. We will really feel it here in Maine when the lobsters inevitably move north to colder waters. A way of life will shift for the smaller coastal towns.
Thinking of your interest in fungi, Kate, because the mycorrhizal network connects the trees and plants, and reminds us that the destruction of woodlands for development is not just ‘x’ number of trees to be ‘replaced’, but a whole biological infrastructure that takes generations to evolve.
Your sub-title ‘…feeling humbled…’ makes me think of our senses being mycorrhizal, as we reach out (fingers splayed) to the names, the variants, the interactions, the folklore. For me, the implication of ‘humility’ means merging or communing with something ‘greater’. There’s the tangibility of tree-hugging, literal and metaphorical. We can change with ‘their’ mood. Just being in proximity gives us so much, on many levels. A gentle breeze through the leaves of trees as we contemplate the whole scene, I’m sure, connects us with our neolithic forebears, despite our ‘modern’ filtering of experience.
‘Our’ massive purple beech talks different languages depending on wind direction or intensity. An almost imperceptible breeze provides or provokes the most articulate whisper-words.
Thanks for your thoughts.
D
re-connecting to the wood wide web here:
https://suzannesimard.com/finding-the-mother-tree-book/
xD