CONNECTIONS #BloggersBash Bestest Blog Post Competition The Tree and Me

The Sacred Tree – na Bílí – is where I made my home, called by a voice unknown. I pay my respects from a distance, content to wait.

And trees have time to kill.

My life has been filled with trees, from the day as a teen when I missed my train to work because I was so busy writing a poem (Winter Trees) about the trees which bordered the platform, to the day only a few months ago, when I planted the first trees in my garden.

I love them. I admire them. I respect them. I cry when I see one cut down. I feel pain when I see the naked wound of pale, fresh wood.

Trees are tactile. They invite touch. Against my skin, the trunk is cold, hard, unyielding. The tree is not like me: I am soft, warm, weak flesh. Silent and strong he stands, old long before I was thrust into existence; he will remain long after I am gone.

The tree is not like me. He reaches for the stars, blossoms for the sun, always standing tall and proud, bowing to none, resisting. When the storm rages, he dances and sings, but he is resolute.

I am not like the tree. I drift where life’s breeze blows me. I shy from sun and storm. I am human, enslaved to my weak, warm flesh.

The broad path leads me through the forest, and I am dazzled by the myriad shades of green, by the capricious filter of sunbeams, by the golden fall of last years leaves, shed like autumn tears. Above me, branches interlace, shaping the vault of nature’s cathedral. Protecting. Embracing. Forming me into the precious relic contained within their shrine. I breathe, and the burden of life’s woes is lifted.

Beneath my feet, deep in the dark, damp earth, roots search out kin, binding, weaving together, supporting one another, connecting. They are all different – the oak, the scots pine, the rowan, the willow. And yet, they are all the same.

Just like us.

I was inspired to write this by the #BloggersBash Blog Post Competition, which this year is all about ‘Connections‘.

Submit your entry here.


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41 Comments on “CONNECTIONS #BloggersBash Bestest Blog Post Competition The Tree and Me

  1. More than anything, what a beautiful lesson in morals. Of course the bash – yeah! But like what an amazing way to think of connections. I love that. Reminds me of a poem read at our wedding that talks about tree roots and us as individuals growing together like the mesh of a trees roots. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Gabe! 😊 I should say I’m not entering the competition, as I help organise it… I was just getting in the spirit of it. Will you enter?

      Liked by 1 person

      • I’m still a rookie. Perhaps next year I’ll have the skill to start submitting succinct and powerful prose for competitions.

        Until then, I’m having a great time reading and blogging my little heart out.


    • Thanks Kate! Glad to meet a fellow tree lover! What’s not to love about trees? There are lots of trees on my blog, as you may have noticed! Lol! 😁


  2. I think it is incredibly interesting that you refer to trees in the masculine gender. Do you feel that all trees are more masculine than feminine in their traits, or did you just use the masculine gender for the purpose of this blog post? I love trees, too. I love walking with my dog on nature trails. Being in nature among the trees and mountains gives me a sense of peace like nothing else.


  3. Well, this would be a winner if you were allowed to enter, Ali. I hate seeing trees being cut down as well, especially when there is no valid reason why it has to be felled. What beauty trees bring to us in the spring, summer and autumn. They need their rest in winter, but some have adapted to keep us humans happy.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks, Hugh! 😊 I thought I’d try and encourage people to enter by joining in the spirit of the thing. They do keep us happy, don’t they? Imagine a world without trees! And they mop up carbon dioxide and breathe out oxygen… not just pretty, but useful, actually, essential to our survival and well being. In November, we had a load of young saplings planted in our little town, and one night some mindless thug went around and snapped them all. What the hell?

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Love the way that ended, Ali. Spot on.
    Until recently, I wouldn’t have said I was particularly at one with nature, but I’ve come to realise that I am at my most comfortable and peaceful when I’m either on (or in) water or out walking – and when you live in Robin Hood country, it’s hard to walk without ending up among trees.
    Thanks for the reminder about this competition as well. Got a blog post to write…

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you. I may say I was also partly inspired… or rather, moved… to write this by what is happening across the pond. But let’s not go there. Glad you enjoyed it. And yes, you must be surrounded by some very ancient trees where you are. Looking forward to reading your post! 😊

      Liked by 1 person

  5. What stunning photos, Ali. I’m also a tree lover.
    We’ve just returned from 3 weeks in Tasmania. My husband’s from Tassie and his family goes back to pioneer days on practically every front.
    I’m not sure whether you were aware of this but Irish political prisoners were transported to Tasmania, including John Mitchel and William Smith O’Brien. Geoff’s 4th Great Grandfather helped John Michel escape.
    Meanwhile, we visited Port Arthur the former convict prison and saw William Smith O’Brien’s home there.
    Although this period of Irish history is much more recent than what you write about, I thought you might find it interesting:
    Getting back onto the subject of trees, the trees are amazing in Tasmania. Huge, towering giants and massive ferns they call “man ferns”. Geoffle thought that sounded very Australian.
    I hope things are going well with you!
    Best wishes,
    PS people were speaking Gaelic in parts of Northern Tasmania long after immigration.

    Liked by 1 person

      • I’m completely obsessive, Ali. That journalist or detective pursuing the quest.
        My family came out from Ireland from 1830s-1855. I’ve read quite a lot about the famine and would dearly love to know how the families fared back in Ireland. On my direct line, he had quite a few siblings but we don’t know if they survived or not. It intrigues me. I don’t like an unanswered question. It bugs me.


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