The Tree and Me

I walk along the road. There is no living person within sight or sound. The murmuring icy water spills over the rocks of the millpond, hesitating in autumn’s wistful pool, quickening with each second, eager for spring, leaving winter upstream.

Chickadees tease; I long to be closer than they allow, but they do not know me as I do them. Petite black and white beings, playful against the limitless sky, flutter paper wings in rapid dance, flitting between branches, caught between mating call and celebratory song. I smile; the younger ones have more time before they must attract a mate. Ah, to be young and in love.

I sense trembling. Within the womb of Our Mother, life is about to unfold, to leap from the earth. Trees shake fistfuls of curled up buds holding promises of the future, ready to burst into the greenness of existence. Waiting is challenging, but we mustn’t be impatient. Whether we are the unborn or one who seeks; we must endure and trust. The time is right.

A winding stream passes through the woods. Musical tones mixing riffs with mud and ice, carry the wasted past of decaying leaves and twigs to a place of newness, transforming life from death. I wonder where it begins and where it ends. Perhaps it is infinite and carries the secrets of the universe.

The finches follow me. I do not see them, but hear them in the trees. “Do you know?” “Do you know?” They implore me never to stop seeking answers, as they question the questioner.

I want to take a photograph of the crow that flies overhead, but the telephone poles and wires are in the way; so I don’t. I hear him call to the others. “She is here.” I know this.

The woodpecker’s bright red nape catches my eye. He hops up higher and higher into the giant dead pine tree, circling as he nears the top. Pecking and peeping, pecking and peeping.

I pass an elder of the woods– a proud maple tree – boasting a long life with its enormous breadth. I stop to pay homage. Tears fill my eyes as I make a remarkable discovery. Centered near its heart, it holds an image of a sapling; a blueprint of its essence. It is unmistakable. A beauteous vision etched carefully and framed within the bark. To know of this wisdom, is to know of Sophia and the miracle of life.

Today is an important day for the tree and me. I am a witness. I share her vision and shall carry it with me for all of my days. Never forget from whence we came and for where we are going. Honor Thy Mother.