Heart of the Tree

Ever since our remote human ancestors first swung down from the African treetops, we’ve shared a deep connection with trees. In a sense, humankind was born in trees, and since then, almost every culture worldwide has featured trees in their stories of Life and the Cosmos.

I think winter is a good time to contemplate trees. Leafless, they seem to display even more of their individual character with twisting trunks and gnarled bark, and seen through a maze of twigs, the dull gray sky is transformed into a fascinating, complex design.

Yesterday, as I walked through my neighborhood, I was struck by the beauty of this English Walnut. It’s one of the biggest trees in the area and I suspect it was planted in the early 1900s, probably soon after this section was cleared of its native Douglas firs and hemlocks. It was probably a sapling when my house was built in 1907.

English Walnut is actually a native of Central Asia, brought to Europe by Alexander the Great. This one seems to have come with its own Dryad. When I imported this photo into Photoshop and applied a filter, I was startled at the image that emerged. I highlighted it a bit with the dodge and burn tools and voila! The tree-spirit of Walnut Avenue!

English Walnut is actually a native of Central Asia, brought to Europe by Alexander the Great. This one seems to have come with its own Dryad. When I imported my photo into Photoshop and applied a filter, I was startled at the image that emerged. I highlighted it a bit with the dodge and burn tools and voila! The tree-spirit of Walnut Avenue!

 

In honor of those who planted this tree—and those who have nurtured and preserved it—here is a poem by Henry Cuyler Bunner, published in 1893 in The Century Magazine:

(and thanks to my mother for sharing this beautiful poem with me—recited from memory!)

The Heart of the Tree

 

What does he plant who plants a tree?

He plants a friend of sun and sky;

He plants the flag of breezes free;

The shaft of beauty, towering high;

He plants a home to heaven anigh;

For song and mother-croon of bird

In hushed and happy twilight heard—

The treble of heaven’s harmony—

These things he plants who plants a tree.

 

What does he plant who plants a tree?

He plants cool shade and tender rain,

And seed and bud of days to be,

And years that fade and flush again;

He plants the glory of the plain;

He plants the forest’s heritage;

The harvest of a coming age;

The joy that unborn eyes shall see—

These things he plants who plants a tree.

 

What does he plant who plants a tree?

He plants, in sap and leaf and wood,

In love of home and loyalty

And far-cast thought of civic good—

His blessings on the neighborhood,

Who in the hollow of His hand

Holds all the growth of all our land—

A nation’s growth from sea to sea

Stirs in his heart who plants a tree.

-Henry Cuyler Bunner, 1885 – 1896