Category: Stories

A long time ago, when my life was in turmoil, I found my tree, beside a stream in a city park. Whenever I was troubled, I went to my tree and looked up into it’s branches, knowing that it had been there for centuries, long before the g estates around it had been built. It calmed me and cleared my mind. I loved it in all seasons and it anchored me to earth. Thank you for reminding me :)

I wanted to share this post from Marilyn’s brother, Bud Wilson:

Hello Pam, This is a really nice new blog site – I just realized that you and Marilyn ( if she were still with us) would appreciate my tribute to another Tree Lover: Wangari Maathai: I hope your followers will also appreciate this:

http://www.elephantjournal.com/2011/09/pause-to-say-a-little-prayer-for-wangari-maathai/

From my amazing hike in the hollows this weekend with wrigs…

This has been an especially sad year for our trees here in Mapleton. A freak tornado in early April destroyed or mutilated many of our beautiful trees. Summer growth hid a lot of the scars, but stumps remain to remind us of the lost ones. A new spring will bring new plantings and life will renew itself, but the loss of even one tree is sad.

Contributed by Jean Powell, Mapleton, IA

Spent this cool, sunny day at the Royal Botanical Gardens in Edinburgh–as you may know it is a favorite spot of mine.  So thankful to Mother Earth for providing such beauty…attached some of my favorite shots. I missed the peak colors but loved walking thru the leaves as well as finding some still hanging on…not quite ready to let go…

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Photos and text by Cathy Loffredo

don’t move
get to know intimately
this one spot on earth

creek water
woven within paper
tree whispers

water carves
the living mantle of soil
silver salmon run

created by light
chalice of a poppy
a small planet

is it true
the garden fashions
the gardener

the flower
gives fertile seeds –
its descendants

By Giselle Maya, first published in the book ‘Garden Mandala’, Koyama Press, France 2011

the opening
of a single flower
may touch a distant planet

outer limits
a ladybug ascending
dew-covered grass

clouds move
behind oak boughs
unveiling a star

ancient oak
on curved limbs
a shawl of moss

By Giselle Maya, first published in the book ‘Garden Mandala’, Koyama Press, France 2011

Emma Bruemmer, State Urban Forester from the Iowa Department of Natural Resources accesses Mapleton’s tree damage from a tornado that devastated the town on April 9th, 2011.  She uses a handheld device with ArcGIS software to input data that will be used to map, analyze and acquire information for restoration and replanting.

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More from OFFICIAL COURT REPORTERS –

1 DAVID’S TREE STORY.

2 Growing up in Northfield, we had two trees in the

3 front yard that were probably 50 yards apart. And my

4 father — I had two brothers. My father had the idea

5 of putting a rope high between the two trees and

6 fixing a pulley system with a rope and a round seat.

7 And then he took a — probably a one-story ladder,

8 leaned it up against the higher tree, and you could

9 take the swing up with you, put the round swing

10 between your legs and glide down between the trees.

11 And so that was our own little amusement park in the

12 front yard

13 Anyone ever get hurt?

14 No. No one ever got hurt surprisingly. We even got

15 creative in the fall. We would rake the leaves and

16 then burn them. And then of course you’d go over

17 them — not flaming, but smoldering. Do something

18 kind of daring.

19 But the trees weren’t, you know, extremely mature.

20 And now I drive by the house in Northfield and

21 they’re fortunately still there. But they’re very

22 mature.

23 Did you bend them?

24 No, they were quite strong when we had them. But the

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1 rope had to be a good 15 feet in the air at the high

2 point, maybe 20. Not quite 20. But the rope was

3 angled enough that you could do that. And I think my

4 two older brothers, myself, and my sister, all that

5 was a tremendous enjoyment for us and the neighbor

6 kids. Liability. Think of liability today. No. No

7 one every got hurt.

A dear friend sent me this poem from a blog to which she subscribes, entitled Unfolding Light. The author just happens to be a friend of her’s. Touched by its sensitivity, I wrote the author asking permission to post, to which he generously replied: You are free to share, quote, spread around and otherwise multiply any of my things. Looking at your lovely web site, and the intriguing paper rounds project, I think I might have to dig out some other poems about trees. (I walk in woods every morning, so trees are a big part of the daily reflections that I write.) I’m delighted to feel even this little connection with someone else doing something beautiful.

I too am delighted. The poem—

In buildings too long

In buildings too long
without letting herself out of windows,
without crawling around enough,
she finally escaped
into an untended lot
and began the work
of healing her bond with the earth.
She hunched
and stitched her attention,
thread by thread,
with each pebble, each blade of grass,
each little bundle of dirt and dead roots,
each tendril of weed and nameless bug,
until she had woven a web of tenderness
with a little tumult of soil
and its sky, no wider than her knee.
Despairing of the vastness of it all,
she went to bed that night weary
and a little dubious.
But she should have known:
in the night those threads out in the dark
grew, as they do,
rooting among trees,
conversing knowingly with birds,
until by dawn the whole earth
was woven again into a living whole,
eager to greet her
with the tenderest love.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
http://www.unfoldinglight.net

Still more from the open house and OFFICIAL COURT REPORTERS –

1 LESLIE’S FIRST TREE STORY

2 In 1996 I was — I was pregnant with a baby. And she

3 and I got sick. She passed after she as born. And

4 we moved shortly after to a new home. We had to

5 move. And in order to heal, I found myself trimming

6 underneath this huge evergreen tree that was in the

7 very front of our yard. It was very close to the

8 house. And in time, to recover, I was really sick

9 from it. It took about a year. And I stayed

10 underneath the tree. And just no one had ever

11 trimmed it, and it was just huge (indicating) and

12 tall. So I would just climb up and trim the dead

13 branches.

14 And then we moved from there, and eventually someone

15 bought that home. And then I saw that that tree was

16 up for an option for the Botanic Garden. They were

17 looking for a Christmas tree, and they had their eye

18 on three different trees in the area. And they ended

19 up choosing that tree. And so it was like in the

20 newspaper. They cut it down. It was very close to

21 the house. And so they brought it to the Botanic

22 Garden. And they put, like, 10,000 Italian lights

23 on. And it was the Christmas tree for that year

24 And I called up the woman who ran it, and I said

OFFICIAL COURT REPORTERS –

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1 that’s a really special tree to me. And I told her

2 my daughter’s name, Zahava, and she called it

3 Zahava’s tree. And we visited, and we took a

4 picture.

5 Then many many years later, as I was working with an

6 intuitive, clearing different things, she said to me,

7 “Well, I know that you are Jewish, but there’s this

8 Christmas tree, an evergreen tree, crumpled in your

9 spine, energetically speaking.” And she said, “Does

10 that make any sense?” And I said, “Yes, it makes a

11 lot of sense.” So, I told her what my connection was

12 to that, and we cleared the tree, the tree — all the

13 gifts the tree had given to me, and its connection to

14 that event and to that time together that we spent

15 together.

16 There’s more to the story, but basically — I mean, I

17 have poems about it and writings about it. But

18 basically that’s one of the stories of being

19 connected to the tree, and that it says in you, you

20 know, you don’t go far. They don’t go far.

21 Oh, I know what the connection is. Then there was

22 Yom Kippur coming up, and Day of Atonement. And I

23 went to a river, and I played the flute, and I think

24 I tossed some kind of prayer. It landed on a leaf on

OFFICIAL COURT REPORTERS –

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1 the river, and it floated down. And then I went to

2 the person’s house where this tree was. And I

3 knocked on the door. And I said I need to just

4 connect, make a connection with the place where this

5 tree had been. You see that dip in your — you know.

6 She said yes. They were the same couple that donated

7 the tree. And I went to that spot. I think I

8 brought flowers and I brought water, and I played the

9 flute just to make our connection with the leaf full

10 circle. That was it. That was the story for me.

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Contributed by Leslie Schechtman

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More from OFFICIAL COURT REPORTERS –

1 JANE’S TREE STORY

2 When I was growing up there was a cherry tree outside

3 our kitchen door. And it had this incredible branch,

4 went straight out sideways, horizontal. And we used

5 to ride it as a horse. And in that one spot in Iowa

6 I probably traveled the whole west. I galloped

7 across the whole country on this make-believe horse.

8 It was a wonderful memory. Spirit Lake, the

9 northwest corner. In one spot I traveled the world.

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Contributed by Jane Rae Brown

Another story from my open house and OFFICIAL COURT REPORTERS –

1 LINDA’S TREE STORY.

2 Let me see. I have a few tree stories at our house.

3 My favorite one I told Pam was my grandfather was

4 born in Ireland. He loved trees. Loved planting

5 trees. And I said he loved planting trees at six in

6 the morning in our back yard, especially in my Dad’s

7 back yard. We used to laugh that we could hear like

8 his shovel in the back yard. And we said jokingly

9 that you could hear the wind from my Dad’s door

10 opening, my parents’ bedroom door opening, and a gust

11 of wind that blew underneath your bed room door early

12 in the morning to kind of, like the little sounds

13 that wake you.

14 And he was running out because he knew that something

15 was going on in the back yard. And my grandfather

16 had a — what was it? Like a really — I’m trying to

17 think of the car — an Oldsmobile. And he had

18 shovels and a wheelbarrow that he could keep in his

19 trunk. And his trunk was spotless. His shovel, it

20 was like he shined them. They were as shiny as a

21 badge. They were spotless.

22 But he would come in, and his favorite tree was a

23 blue spruce. And for each of our First Communions he

24 planted a blue spruce for each one of us kids

OFFICIAL COURT REPORTERS –

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1 But when we moved, all those trees stayed of course

2 in the house we grew up in.

3 So my grandfather felt inclined to kind of replant a

4 few more trees when we moved out to this house.

5 And it was actually because we’d just wake up in the

6 morning on Saturday morning. And my grandfather

7 would be doing the thing he loved, which was planting

8 trees in our back yard.

9 Without asking my Dad, he would just decide on a

10 place that he thought was best. And it was always,

11 my Dad would be, like, you know, it would be nice if

12 you could at least say you’re coming over to plant

13 trees.

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Contributed by Linda Barrett

I am grateful to a good friend who is a court reporter (and incredible artist and calligrapher)—as she graciously recorded stories told quite spontaneously at an open house one winter day.

OFFICIAL COURT REPORTERS – 1

1 FRANCIE’S TREE STORY.

2 About 12 years ago a friend and I were living in

3 Montana. We went out to Idaho. He took me to this

4 forest. And all the trees — it was so enchanted.

5 All the trees had fallen years ago. There had been a

6 fire. And they were burned out in the middle, but

7 some of them were still standing. And you could

8 crawl into a hole in the tree and stand inside this

9 old wood of what had once existed. And there was a

10 hot spring river running through the forest about

11 October, first snow. There was some snow on the

12 ground. And it was just starting, flurries in the

13 sky.

14 And the hot spring river was going through these

15 trees that had, like, their roots had all these

16 gnarled knots like an old woman’s fingers. And the

17 river was steaming up. It just felt like time didn’t

18 mean anything there. And, that just like a little

19 pocket of magic.

20 And we would go inside of these trees and look up.

21 And the wood was all charred. And because of wind

22 and time it had twisted like that. And then, to find

23 these little flowers and moss and mushrooms growing

24 inside. I never forgot that forest. A whole forest

OFFICIAL COURT REPORTERS –

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1 of trees. Just the feeling of eternity in there.
Contributed by Francie Corry

Whenever there’s a gathering of people I can’t help but hear a tree story or two—so, some time ago when I had an open house I asked a good friend who happens to be a court reporter, if she would mind documenting the stories. She graciously agreed. Enjoy!

JOHN’S TREE STORY
Everyone’s got a lot of tree memories. I don’t know if any one in particular is compelling as a story. When you asked me about it, though, I was thinking about a trip that I took recently to northern California. My brother lives there. And I have gone up and visited him. He lives in wine country, but not too far from the redwoods, redwood forest in northern California. So two years ago I went up there in November and visited with my brother and his family, and then went north to what then they call the Lost Coast of northern California. It’s really remote, beautiful hiking area.

On the way up in Humboldt County I had heard about this redwood forest called Montgomery Woods. Montgomery Woods supposedly has the largest tree, might be the largest tree in the world. It’s billed as the largest tree in North America. It’s a redwood. And they don’t identify the tree. They don’t tell you which tree it is. They say the largest tree is in Montgomery Woods someplace. So I thought, well, I’m hiking up towards north of, towards the Lost Coast. I would look for the biggest tree in the world. And I hike in and, you know, there’s a little parking lot and a little — also a little ranger station there. There was nobody there. It was in October, way past the tourist season. I was there by myself essentially I walked in. There was a little gravel trail, looking at these trees, and I decided just get off the trail because the biggest tree in the world is probably off the trail someplace, off the beaten path. So I hiked through. It’s not that big. The park is not that big. But I got completely disoriented and lost. And all of a sudden I was in this glade of redwood trees—a redwood forest. If you’ve ever been in a redwood forest, because the light doesn’t penetrate to the forest floor, there’s no undergrowth. It’s just like ferns, and it’s dark and cool, even on a sunny day. Or a hot day, it’s dark and cool in there. And it gave me a sense of — Oh, it’s difficult to explain, but it’s a sense of, an awesome sense of holiness. You know, a sense of — that this place was a connection to something sacred about the earth; that it inspired in me a sense of respect for nature and a connection to it that I rarely experience because I live in the city.

So I’m hiking along. And all of a sudden I came to this tree. And I thought that’s it. That’s the biggest tree in the world. It has to be. I have never seen anything more massive or huge. Then I start walking another couple of hundred yards. Oh, my God. There’s another tree. It’s 40 percent bigger than the one I just saw. I hiked another couple hundred yards. And there is another tree. So I don’t know if I ever saw the biggest tree in the world, but I saw some massive, massive trees that were just absolutely awe inspiring, and, as I said inspired in me a real sense of connection with the earth and respect for the earth, particularly over long periods of time. These trees are, you know, hundreds, possibly thousands of years old. And the things that those trees, you know, that portions of our history that these trees have come and gone and they just kind of endured all that and continue to grow and endure forest fires while, you know, our mayors and presidents come and go with their petty squabbles. And all their, you know, insignificant things these trees and the earth endures. So that’s my tree story.
John MacDonald

We called it the five-finger tree…each massive trunk reaching out to touch the sky. At 8 or 9, species meant nothing. In the field behind our house, I’d shimmy up my favorite trunk ensconcing myself high among the branches to watch the older kids play softball. Scrapes from its knobby bark were my trophies. By the time I took a botany class in college the five-finger tree had been cut down, so I never found out its species. It was and is just the five-finger tree, the hand of God holding me.

Contributed by Laura Bertram

Tree stories come in many sizes and flavors! Below is a seed packet Mike Gold made for a Scribes 8 project “in which we each designed the kind of seed packet we’d like to see, with seeds enclosed that could be planted and grown. Being a Seuss fan, this was a very fitting design.” Wouldn’t you love one of those growing in your yard!

Photo by Pamela Paulsrud

Eglé
…is the first Lithuanian word I heard my two year old daughter say. She pointed to the small fir tree my father planted in the front yard that day. “What dat Pop-Pop?” “Eglé, Marija,” was his reply. Marija came to me, took me by the hand and brought me to see the fir tree. She fondly touched the tree with those small baby hands, gave it a kiss followed by a giggle, since it tickled her face and said with a radiant smile, “Eglé, Mommy!”
(a small fir tree, personified, through the eyes and imagination of a child).

pronounced egg-le

Contributed by B. Gudauskas, Philadelphia, PA

The south is home to some of the biggest live oak trees I’ve ever seen. The ones that I remember most fondly are the kind with the gigantic limbs that swoop down close, in some cases all the way, to the ground.  It was amazing growing up around these trees and experiencing them as a child. While growing up, my sister and I would climb trees almost on a daily basis. It was fun and yet magical. Every time I see a big live oak tree like that it brings back the best memories!

Fast forward many years later, I’m now in my early 20′s and still climb trees every chance I get. Their roots are set deep into Mother Earth. Being musically gifted )on Native American flute and other instruments) I wanted to write a song that captures the essence of being in that tree – carefree and joyous.

If you’re interested in hearing this song, log on to my website: http://jonnylipford.com and look for “Up in a Tree” from my most recent release, “Turn The Page.”

Hope you enjoy the story. Peace!

Contributed by Jonny Lipford

When I was 10 years old there was tree I used to climb in my backyard. It was around 50 feet tall and I could climb up 40 feet before the branches thinned out. One day I was in the tree when my mother ran out into the yard and yelled at me to get out of the tree. Her over reaction scared me, so I didn’t take the usual caution as I climbed down. I lost my balance and fell 30 feet but the branches of the tree almost seemed to catch me as I dropped through them. It was as if they curled up and wrapped around me, as though the branches passed me from one to another until I was on the ground. Outside of a few scratches I had no injuries. My mother was still yelling at me, not realizing the miracle that had taken place, but I knew some kind of magic had just happened.

Contributed by Larry Oberc, Chicago, IL

We live in a traditional cottage in north east Scotland. When we moved into our cottage, many years ago, there were six Sitka spruce along one side of the garden. Rangy, poor dying souls; so we got them cut down and taken away. I felt dreadful after this, our garden felt bare and too different. We live in the middle of farmland where it seems that trees and hedges get cut down indiscriminately by the farmers; we did not want to be part of that movement. So we planted new trees; we had to think carefully as our garden isn’t big. It is surrounded by a very old beech hedge, and there is a mature Ash tree in the front and a Field Maple in the back garden. So we planted a Cherry, two Hawthorns (one of which I had grown from a seed) a Maple (Crimson King) a Birch (Snow Queen) and a Rowan/Mountain Ash. The trees have now grown a great deal and are the delight of the garden. We even named out son after a tree, Rowan, as it was traditional here to plant a Rowan tree in the garden of a new house to protect against evil spirits. We wanted our son to be protected and we also thought it was a beautiful name. He rather spoilt the romance when he got his first library card and I found out that he had added Geronimo to his birth name, as he felt he lacked a middle name!

Contributed by Catherine Whiteman

My favorite tree was a mulberry tree at my neighbors. We climbed onto a chicken house to reach our juicy mulberries. We would reach high and keep eating. Our hands and feet stained purple, our faces full of smiles.

Contributed by Lisa Steffen, Charter Oak, Iowa

Emma Bruemmer, State Urban Forester from the Iowa Department of Natural Resources accesses Mapleton’s tree damage from a tornado that devastated the town on April 9th, 2011.  She uses a handheld device with ArcGIS software to input data that will be used to map, analyze and acquire information for restoration and replanting.

In follow-up to yesterday’s story behind the story of the tree named bob, I thought I should add that another young woman overheard our conversation and chimed in, delighted to hear that someone else had named a tree.  “You named your tree Bob? I named mine Princé!”

Melissa’s story in her own words:

Every day after I came home from school I passed a small evergreen at the corner of my house’s garage. It had awkward branches sticking out on the top and it was only a few feet taller than I was. I wanted it to know that although it wasn’t large and majestic it was special, so I named it Princé (pronounced Pree-say) and kissed its branches every day. Contributed by Melissa Sandfort, Chicago, IL

Thanks Melissa!

I was out doing my usual morning jog except this morning I was in Orlando, Florida at a Disney World resort instead of Chicago.  I turned on to a shady path and noticed a sign at the base of a little knoll about 10 feet high.  The sign asked one to look at the magnificent tree above and be impressed that people were able to have uprooted this tree and its ”companion” from their places of origin.  The companion was taken to another Disney site and this beautiful tree stood alone on the knoll.  I stood breathless at its grandeur and its ability to have survived the reality that 18 years ago men actually uprooted this 85 ton tree and transferred it 13 miles over a period of 3 weeks and replanted it.  The sign is easy to see as it is at eye level along the path. The tree requires one to make the effort of looking up. I was told that it was believed Oak Tree was over 100 years old.

Great Oak remained silent and distant as I stood there admiring him. My heart opened up to this tree sensing its loneliness.  Slowly it let me come closer and I climbed the little knoll.  I stood close to it looking up its huge  trunk into its branches.  I was in awe of its strength and fortitude that allowed it to survive and thrive regardless of this incomprehensible trauma.  My heart began to feel sad thinking about Great Tree’s journey.  He had lost his home, friends, and family.  In a little while Great Oak softened and let me touch his trunk.  I was permitted to embrace Tree and merge with it.  Oak Tree began to talk.  “No one has ever really noticed me.  They might glance at me and keep walking as if I was just another leaf or a blade of grass.”

I told him about my trees at home and asked if he would like to meet them.  I talked about a Vision Quest that I was going on and would it like to talk to the trees in NM and tell them we had met and I would be coming to spend time with them.  Great Oak felt pleased to be included and was happy to talk to the trees and introduce me and let them know I would be coming in March.  I sensed that he made contact swiftly with the trees in NM, my home and in the near by park.

I asked if it would give me some direction in relation to Vision Quest as my preparatory work was very hard.

“Remember me and stand tall and have deep roots.

And know that I will always be with you.”

I was deeply touched. I remained awhile admiring all of it and asked if it would like to meet my family.  It was apparent it knew them already but would be happy to meet them.  I went off to find them. My grandchildren came back with me.  Oak Tree was right on.  The 9 year old glanced up and moved on quickly, my 12 year-old grandson stayed a little longer and took in what he needed at a glance.  His twin sister came up and touched the tree and stayed for a brief time. My son came and looked at the tree and my daughter in law really did not want to have anything to do with this living, talking marvel.

The next day I awoke anxious and distressed.  Do I want to visit the tree again or not…?  I am already feeling as if I will be leaving it and never to meet again.  OK, I will go back.  I felt so miserable.  Ancient one looked at me as I went up to embrace him.  The tree spoke again:

“Embrace what is yours,

Let go of what is not yours,

Be grounded in your roots and

as flexible as the branches in the wind”

I stayed for awhile leaning against the tree. At breakfast my son was curious to hear what wisdom the tree offered today. “That is good information. I can relate to that.  The kids wanted to go visit the tree for awhile. Though they did not seem to pay attention to Great Tree they wanted to play near it and glanced its way occasionally.

The next morning and last day of our visit, I stopped to say good morning and the tree had pulled in and put a shield about it.  I asked what was wrong.  The past 2 days had been chilly and the swimming area and slide were not being used.  But today they already had the noise of the pumps pushing the “water fall” and the children and parents yelling and having fun but no one noticed Oak Tree.  It spoke of the noise being irritated. It would rather be quiet in its own space and not have to deal with all of the noise.  I knew just what it was talking about as I too would rather be in my own quiet space than dealing with noise and chaos.  Great Oak Tree had much in common it seemed.

Two months have passed and Great Tree comes to visit frequently and invites me to hug him and to feel his long arm come and hold me.

Contributed by Marcia Bregman

Of Forests and Men – USA (Edward Norton) from GoodPlanet on Vimeo.