Trees are living breathing things

I spent my lockdown alone. My mantra, to friends and relatives was that I was alone, but not lonely. I stand by that, with one exception. The weeks passed by, I fell into a good routine. I was helped by a focus on academic deadlines and weekly online tuition, part of my postgraduate course, but I started to notice something - I really missed the touch of other living things.

I’m a hugger. I’m also a toucher - a hand on the arm, a pat on the shoulder - I’m sure you know someone like that. Not touching anyone, or any dogs or cats, started to play on my mind, until I noticed the trees. One moment stands out, when, on an evening walk through the woods by Fish Ponds, I noticed light moving across a tree trunk. It seemed to beg to be touched. Never missing a social media opportunity, I took out my phone and captured a quick video, which, incidentally, got a good number of likes, but then walked over and stroked the tree. I looked up, the canopy moving gently in the breeze - it was ...... beautiful and at that moment I knew ...... the trees could help me. The trees could be my lockdown friends.

I walked among the trees of Thorner every day during lockdown. The beauty of the changing light caught my breath. I met trees that even seemed to wave hello. The most important memories, by far, are the hugs. Now, I’m of an age where talk of tree hugging brings a fleeting image of a younger Prince Charles ...... not pleasant. So if this comes to your mind, I ask that you cast out that thought. Instead, picture a middle aged woman, me, who loves people, who is mostly pragmatic and down to earth, but known to have some more “out there” ideas. One such idea is that there are many things we just can’t understand, or test with our current scientific knowledge, and that maybe, just maybe, the trees hold some form of energy, a life force, that we can feel ...... that I can feel.

My favourite tree, for hugging, is one in the sheep field accessed via Milner Lane. It is the first one you come to after crossing the style. It has, what one of my sisters describes, as an elf hole, at the base of the trunk. During those warm Spring lockdown days, the lambs liked to sit on the path, enjoying the shade. I hugged that tree often, and sent out thanks into the world that I had trees to hug, good health, and the very great fortune to live in such a beautiful place.

One afternoon, whilst hugging the tree, I noticed the lambs looking up at me. I wondered, looked up at the developing canopy, and the tree seemed to be encouraging me ...... I decided to try and touch a lamb. I chose one that was standing, and seemed to be interested in me, not in a “I’m going to run away“ way but in a “you seem like a friend” way. So, tentatively, I approached. The lamb watched. I reached out a hand, and I touched the wool between the ears and it just looked up at me. As I write, I’m thinking of David Attenborough and the Gorillas and him saying something like “there is more meaning in exchanging a glance with a Gorilla than any other animal I know”. My lamb was my Gorilla moment, not in the dense forest of the Congo, but by my favourite hugging tree.

If you are still with me, I would love to hear about your lockdown tree moments. Trees are things of such great beauty, cleaning our air, fixing our soil to the ground and yet for me their greatest attribute is in lifting our spirit ....... if we just stop to notice.

Lamb wellbeing afternote:

Tempting though it was, to try to pet lambs each time I passed, I didn’t. I thought that they should be fearful and stay away from people they don’t know. I’m not therefore advocating trying to pet the local lambs when they reappear next Spring - I doubt the local farmers would appreciate it. These were extraordinary times.......