Lessons from an Apple Tree

Inspired by Beth Kempton's Spring Light course

As trees go, I’m not that old, but I have weathered many seasons by your measure, welcoming this latest spring; another turning of the earth complete.  I stand with my fellow trees; although we are different species – planted here as we were by human hands, and not speaking each other’s language - we share our sunlight and food, merging our roots’ mycorrhizal systems as best we can.

I watch the birds with pleasure as they frantically move about me at full pelt – such speed!  Driven endlessly by the need to refuel – to feed themselves and their young.  Such short lives.  All living things share the same number of heartbeats in a lifetime.  Some beat at such a pace.  Like the birds, or the small mice which roam near my trunk.  Some hearts, like mine would be difficult for you to hear, but none are as slow as the beat of rock, planet, stars.

This recent rain and cold hasn’t helped the birds find food; insect life is scarce, although I am content to unfurl my leaves later, opening my blossoms when there is enough warmth for pollinators to make use of them.  Like the birds, I too weather the passing seasons, but there’s nowhere for me to go when the cold winds pinch at my buds or Atlantic storms rock my very roots.  I can’t escape things which rest in my branches, or nibble at my bark, or burrow into my leaves. But I stand anyway, providing home and food and shelter to countless other living things.

There are only a few humans here – not as many as in towns and cities beyond our little paddock, as I hear tell from the far-ranging rooks.  I watch the humans too – passing by so remote from nature, cut off in their living places, their travelling contraptions, oblivious to us, or worse, trying to take control.  Never really just ‘being’.  Odd, given they call themselves human beings…

This latest human.  I see her too.  Head bowed. Scribbling. Gazing across at me.  She feeds the birds, helping them stay warm in the rain.  And she comes to me sometimes; lays her hand on my side; speaks kindly, gently.  She prunes my sore wounds, and she eats my windfallen fruit.