I’ve spent the last week doing building stuff, but I’m not going to write about it today. I’m going to think of far more pleasant, relaxing things.
I was just reading my ‘Introduction to Permaculture’ book, and I came across this beautiful sentence:
“It is becoming clear that the patterns in a single tree form represent all the patterns found in nature.”
When I was a child, I would sometimes look at trees through the moving window of a car or bus or train, and have the realisation that each tree, every single one, possessed its own unique character. Some were broad and expansive. Some were skinny and scrawny. Some had beautiful coloured bark. Some had wonderful twisty branches. Some had had a hard time of it, and looked a bit worse the wear from lopped off branches or growing around barbed wire fences. Some grew precariously out of cliff faces.
A long time ago now, I was involved in a protest to protect old growth forest from logging in my home state. As part of that experience I spent a week ‘tree-sitting’, camped on a platform in the canopy of a giant Marri tree (tree-sitters are a kind of human shield for forests as the loggers cannot log where people are present). Here’s what I learned from my time in that tree: trees are wise. They really are. They’ve been there, literally. Stood their ground through drought and storm. Inhaled and exhaled. Played host to insects and birds. Used every bit of sun and air and water to grow bigger and stronger.
I love trees. In centuries past I probably would have been some kind of druid priestess. In the less magical and romantic 21st century I find myself just taking photos of them constantly. So here, to celebrate my love of trees, are some photos I took in the Sydney Botanic gardens. Enjoy!