The lace on this tree is dying because you don’t love it enough. Seriously, when was the last time you went into Alice Holt Forest to tell this tree how beautiful it is? Don’t lie, I know it’s been a long, long time. People say you shouldn’t anthropomorphise, but they’re wrong. Trees, like humans, need to be loved. They need to know they are wanted, valued, and adored; they already know they are needed, even if most humans seem to have forgotten that. It’s not just trees which need to be loved, it’s a feature of all matter; a simple fact of the universe. It’s just more apparent in certain types of species. We recognise it in humans because we recognise it in ourselves. In turn, it’s easier to see in our furry friends because of proximity and what we read in their eyes. Likewise, we know our pot plants need
There is a lot of lore around Yew trees, but I can assure you that it’s mostly mistaken, only ever part-right, the consequence of the world seen through half-opened eyes. The only thing the lore makers have gotten right, is that Yew lore is different from the lore of other trees. All tree species have their specific magic, power, and meaning. People who are much more learned than I will tell you that Yews are associated with death and rebirth, and therefore eternity. They will tell you that Yews represent timelessness and the intelligence of the night. The Yew, they say, protects us against evil, which it very well might, but only through its true function. The Yew is associated with death for two reasons: because it is toxic, and because it makes a remarkable longbow. However if you follow time’s arrow, you will find a very different meaning for the
Harry was electric, at least, that’s how he liked to think about himself. Sometimes he felt himself sizzle up to the sky, like the devil had stuck a fork in his roots. Other times he fizzled and popped with energy like a disco ball in the centre of a room. He was the centre too, even though most of the humans walking in Hackhurst Downs didn’t notice. Somewhere a snigger: ‘it’s not only the humans, you know.’ A side-eye of lichen; Harry concentrated on his ray beam curled boughs thrusting upwards to the sky. There was no-one pointing as hard as he was to the heavens. He’d got the power! Julius the tree spirit sighed. It was just like Harry to forget about him, forget about the bargain they had made long ago. It was his own fault: he’d known Harry was an egomaniac when he made the pact. He’d just