I was so inspired by your comments, emails, and texts in response to the last post that I’m revisiting the subject of trees. And it just so happens that it is Arbor Day! (Hear a tree’s message at the end.)
I have always loved trees, but this spring I might be obsessed with them. I’ve taken to ordering old books of tree poems and tree data. The tome that arrived on Good Friday, The Book of Trees, came with two leaves pressed between the front pages. My fingers were drawn to the skin of the leaves the moment I saw them. I wondered what previous owner had collected those leaves and what that person had been thinking while saving and archiving them inside a book. I also have leaves tucked away in my personal library that someone may someday find. I would want that person to know that the leaves inside my books came to me of their own accord. They fell to my lap as I read outside beneath some tree’s canopy. Whenever a leaf floats down like this, mystically as if a gift, it causes me to pause. Within that pause I realize how wondrous simply being is despite ample evidence to the contrary. Being is books, the breeze, the breath, the light of the sun on the gray of the house . . . this moment, this life.
Do you have an indulgent habit that surfaces with spring? Mine is bingeing genre fiction or current affairs nonfiction as soon as the classes I’m teaching end and it’s warm enough to read or listen outside. Cued on my audiobook list right now is Tim Urban’s, What’s Our Problem: A Self-Help Book for Societies. I’m eyeing an historical romance in The Wallflowers Series by Lisa Kleypas, whom I’ve never read. The plot description (a ball, a blonde, and a rogue in London) reveals that she’s altered the storyline of a previously written novel. I have just done the same with my forthcoming novel The Cherokee Rose, so curiosity may prevail over my general reluctance to succumb to classically typed romance protagonists. I promise to keep you posted.
I’ll leave you with a reading of Willa Cather’s, “White Birch in Wyoming,” which appears in The Message of the Trees. I recorded this just moments ago in my yard. In the background you might hear the sounds of my neighbor’s pond (the same neighbor mentioned last post), the cars of rush hour Cambridge, and birds.