Trees are our companions upon this planet. They make life beautiful, and give us shade, the air we breathe, and, in some cases, food. Others give us shelter, keep us warm in winter, prevent erosion of our topsoils and confer many other benefits we have yet to imagine or understand. We are meant to walk through life together, to learn from one another.
There are those who are busy now imagining a life without trees, an interplanetary civilization in places like Mars. They have the idea that life will eventually not be possible on this planet and that we must prepare for life elsewhere. Personally the idea of living on Mars not only sounds ridiculous, but devoid of everything that makes life beautiful and worth living. I’d just as soon not.
May and June can be the hottest, driest months of the year. Taking our dogs for a walk can be challenging. The world around us can feel devoid of life, faded and bleached, parched and dry. Not as bad as living on Mars, but close. Fortunately, close to where we live, there is an area shaded by cottonwood trees with moist green grass during this time of year. The oasis-like environment is created by fringe moisture from a nearby wetland, or “cienega” in Spanish. It’s an idyllic place to pause and give the dogs a chance to play, roll in the grass and ultimately collapse.
The towering cottonwoods make the place magical. On walks I love to look at them from a distance, especially when they are profiled by towering clouds behind them. Like most of us, while walking, a stream of thoughts keeps my mind occupied.
However, one day this past spring, I sat down on a tree stump and gave the dogs some extra time to have some fun. The sun was low in the sky, the air completely still. Everything was motionless and quiet, including myself. Looking straight ahead I noticed a most magnificent cottonwood tree.
Over the years I had probably walked by it numerous times without paying it much notice, but on that day there was something different—it was as if the two of us were connected on the same frequency with no distractions. It was as if the tree had reached out and offered a moment of peace together. Perhaps it was because I was stationary, not walking, that I became totally focused on the tree. I’m not sure how much time passed; what I remember is that the sun began to set, and it was time to go.
There is no doubt that on that day I had connected with another living being, one much wiser and older than I. Connecting with that one tree made me aware that I was connected to all the surrounding trees, that we shared the same life energy. We know so little about trees—what they have seen during the course of their lives, what stories could they tell if only we were able to listen. What would they tell us about the different creatures that live in the expanse of their branches, their bark and in the network—or should I say: the microbial universe—of millions of species of fungi and bacteria that swap nutrients between soil and their roots? We would see a vast, interconnected web of organisms. They would tell us that Nobel Prize laureate Richard Feynman was right in saying that trees come “from out of the air.” That they get their mass from water and air, consuming carbon dioxide and utilizing the sun to process and release oxygen, leaving water and air behind. And where does the water come from? From the sky/air of course.
I suspect, in fact I’m sure, that given the chance, trees would prefer a much different relationship with humans than what exists now. It is easy to imagine that they would prefer to be valued as sentient living beings rather than valued for their economic value once they are cut down. Many would agree, at least those humans of a more sensitive nature, that our modern economics is a form of brain damage.
Hopefully we can leave that Newtonian or mechanistic view of the world behind us. We miss so much beauty—we need moments of quiet, and ideally an environment sympathetic to such activity. In seeing beauty we are naturally inclined to create and bring beauty back into the world. I love how someone once said that through our appreciation of nature’s beauty, the universe becomes conscious of its own beauty. Through the eyes of a quantum universe, everything is entangled with each part influencing the whole. Together, let’s make the world beautiful again.
Previously in “Great Trees of Eastern Santa Cruz County”:
“Elgin’s Movie Star Cottonwood” by Sue Downing
“The Wise Old Emory Oak of Mowry” by Perin McNelis
“A Pleistocene Juniper” by Jim Koweek
“The Leaning Pine of Duquesne” by Bekki Jaynes
“The Hollow Tree of Harshaw Townsite” by Cassina Farley
“The Mexican Blue Oak of Sonoita Creek” by Vince Pinto
Do you know a great tree? Submit photos (or artwork!) and text about your favorite tree to prtadast@gmail.com. It can be any tree on public or private property in Eastern Santa Cruz County. (You don’t have to disclose the tree’s exact location unless you want to.) Tell us what makes the tree great: maybe it’s the tree’s size, shape or age; or its leaf color; or the animals and insects who inhabit it; or the special events or family traditions associated with it; or perhaps something more personal. Whatever it is, share it with us. Let’s celebrate our area’s natural splendor and heritage!