Summer 2017: Healing Leaves 150

Posted on Jun 20, 2017 in Art, Nature, Seasonal Messages

And the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. Rev. 22:2

A few weeks ago on a CBC Ideas podcast, How Art Shapes History, the moderator asked a panel of artists: What makes a nation? Christi Belcourt, a Michif (Métis) visual artist, pointed out that this land we call Canada is made of many, perhaps thousands of nations; that the surviving indigenous nations alone in this country number more than fifty; the bison, all manner of animals, plants, animate and inanimate beings are themselves nations. When she said “We consider the trees to be nations” something stirred in me.

My father loved forests. If he had had his way, we would likely have grown up in the bush in a lumber camp and not on a farm. As it was, we grew up alongside remnants of boreal forest. And we still have a quarter section in the family that is “virgin” boreal forest. It has never been farmed or clear cut. My father was a logger for a good part of his young life and still dabbled with timber when we needed wood to build houses or barns. Yet he and my mother likely planted more trees than they ever harvested. The fascination with and respect for forest has remained in the family. One of my nephews is named Sawyer in my father’s memory. My younger brother still spends many weekends at the “Stump Ranch,” culling old trees for firewood. My older brother goes on tree planting sprees.

The trees are nations. I think at an unconscious level, we have always known the bigger interdependence we are part of. I notice when things change; I bet you notice things too.

A row of eight mature green ash trees used to live in front of the Edmonton Police Service (EPS) Station Number One. I walked by them every day. They were pollarded last year. “Topped” is the word that professional pruners use. Topping is an extreme practice and works well if done right. Locally, I have seen laurel willows pollarded, with mixed results. There were sycamores that I knew in Berkeley (and the ruby-throated hummingbirds that fed on them) that were pollarded. They transformed the space in front of the grand columned university library into a Roman square. But like most pruning, it has to be done at the right time. The contractors who did the topping at the EPS Station Number One, during what was one of our earliest and warmest springs in many years, waved away my concern when I stopped to question them; said, Oh, these are going to look great in a few weeks. You just wait.

I did wait. A few new branches with fresh leaves sprouted out of some of the limbs, but most stood shriven for the rest of the season. Earlier this spring, I noticed that they had been completely removed, their stumps ground, a bit of sawdust on the ground, all that was left. When I phoned the City, I found out the trees had not recovered from the topping. To the credit of EPS and the City, the trees have been replaced and their stewardship taken over by the City’s urban forestry department.

It was a great loss. Those ash trees were likely planted at the same time that the station was built in 1982. That would make them 35 years old. Thirty-five years of rain and drought, thirty-five years of freeze and thaw, thirty-five years of growth towards the sun. Mature ash live an average of 120 years. Some have been known to live 175 years. Elm, green ash, black ash, oak and maple. You can see all of them on streets in our older neighbourhoods. Their nations go back eons; “ancient” doesn’t describe it. Even planted, they’ve managed, I’ve noticed, to create an intricate web of life in their shade. No wonder they can outlive us.

As Canada comes up to marking 150 years as a nation, I want to ask the trees and all the other nations we share this place with, What can you teach us about living together? About justice, about memory, about change? I want to take stock of how we’ve lived with difference and how we might live in new ways with difference going forward. I want to listen.

That is my prayer.

11 Comments

  1. Jano Thibodeau
    June 20, 2017

    Audrey precious lover of trees. You have touched my childhood with love of aspens trembling leaves in summer warm hot breeze. How I miss the shshshsh of the leaves and tonight my thought are back in the forest of my Parents’s farm land. A very sad story I unravel, when my brother inherited the farm as it goes in their time the son got the land and the daughters got nothing ~ So it was ~ Now the farm land has new ownership. My brother clear cut all the trees along the flowing water of the creek plus he tilled the creek covered it with soil to make the farm land looking bigger and better ~ no more singing leaves in the breeze no more singing birds in the trees and no more sound of running water in Spring time~ My heart /mind remembers the aspens nation~

  2. AUDREY BROOKS
    June 21, 2017

    i AM SO PLEASED, AUDREY, THAT YOU PICKED UP ON THE COMMENT BY CHRISTI BELCOURT ABOUT THE TREES, LIKE OTHER BEINGS, ARE NATIONS, WHAT A VIEW OF CREATION! WHEN i MOVED INTO MY OLD HOUSE IN 1987, THERE WERE TREES PLANTED EVERY TWO FEET BY SOMEONE WHO HAD NO IDEA THAT TREES NEED SPACE TO GROW. I FELT SAD THAT WE HAD TO TAKE OUT THE IMMATURE TREES THAT WERE PLANTED AMONG THE ELMS AND SPRUCE, BUT IT HAD TO BE DONE. I AM FORTUNATE THAT TWO OF MY SONS ARE LANDSCAPERS, AND TAKE VERY GOOD CARE OF THE TREES, KNOW WHERE TO PRUNE THEM, AND THE LILACS TOO, I TOOK SHEARS TO THE LILAC BUSHES AND WAS LECTURED ABOUT NOT CUTTING IN THE RIGHT PLACES. I LOVE WATCHING THE SQUIRRELS HIDING TIDBITS IN THE TREES, THE BIRDS BUILDING NESTS, THE WIND MAKING THE BRANCHES DANCE, SO THAT IT LOOKS LIKE A TREE BALLET IN THE YARD. YOUR STORY TRIGGERED MANY MEMORIES, THANK YOU FOR YOUR INSIGHTS!
    HUGS FROM THE OTHER AUDREY!

  3. Henny Vroege
    June 21, 2017

    Thanks, Audrey! Not having a car, I walk a lot. There are many old trees in Nova Scotia, and I love hearing the sound of the wind in the trees. And the birds singing in them. It does the soul so good.

  4. Pearl Gregor
    June 21, 2017

    What a delightful blog!
    I live on a tree covered yard; have planted over 1100 trees on our farm; hired the pruners to ensure the very old ornamental crab apple tree is properly pruned to survive its aging years with grace and dignity. A small mugo pine tree, a cone from the parent tree, cracked to life about 10 years ago in a nearby flower bed . It will find a home in the yard before the end of June. June is tree planting month here.

    Just this morning a friend came by and noticed the snowball root she had rescued from a back alley several years ago. It sprang to life and now holds pride of place at the top of the lawn in a bed of its own. Even now, as I write this, the big old mugo once shorter than my primary school age sons, towers the roof.

    Yes, there is a nation of trees on this place that I call home. Last night the wind danced the trees into a new solstice.
    I can’t pick a favorite tree from this large nation. They are all precious. Some like me, are old and gnarled. At least I have no woodpecker homes in my limbs just yet!
    Pearl.

    • Audrey J Whitson
      June 25, 2017

      Sounds like a tree farm you’ve got there, Pearl:)

  5. Linda Bumstead
    June 24, 2017

    Hi Audrey,
    I enjoyed your blog so much! The nation of trees – I didn’t hear that broadcast and I’m glad you brought up this First Nations belief. It opens your eyes and heart to so many things.

    I am so lucky to have many large trees in my neighbourhood. My dining room window overlooks the river valley where I can see to the south side. Quite a few years ago when there was drought quite a number of the deciduous trees died and although there is now a lot of recovery I can still see silvery grey branches in the greenery. I was so worried about the trees, there and elsewhere I just prayed for rain.

    Speaking of favorite trees, there is a beautiful, large horse chestnut in the alley behind the Hong Kong bank on 106th and Jasper Ave. I always try to go by when it is blooming in the spring but it is a magnificent tree at any time. If you haven’t seen it you should go and have a look. There is a plaque and a bench there. A friend told me she thought most of the horse chestnuts in Edmonton and district were decedents of that tree. There are also two huge flowering trees on 113 St. in front of St. Joseph’s Cathedral. They are only in bloom for about a week before they start to lose the flowers so I make sure to walk by there several times because it is really close to my place. There are some oak trees on 107 and 99 Ave. Just past my alley there are quite a few maples. I also love the way the trees meet over the street at 116 St. between 104 and 102 Ave. They create welcome shade and mystery in an otherwise pretty scrappy urban area.
    Like your family I do love trees. I also like evergreens: the way they brighten up in the summer and how the new growth is so bright and soft. They also add so much life to the winter landscape.
    Colin gave me a book for Christmas: The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben. He talks about the forest as being a social network – but I think the nation of trees is much more apt.
    Thanks for your insights and for giving me this time to reflect on how much I love the trees that surround me.

    • Audrey J Whitson
      June 25, 2017

      I do wander by that horse chestnut tree quite often. It’s only a block from where I work, and you are right, it is glorious in bloom.

  6. Linda Bumstead
    June 24, 2017

    Hi Audrey. This is Colin commenting. Great post. In regard to the “Nation of Trees”: On Twitter the other day, someone posted an article about a UK Conservative politician who believes that corporations should get to vote. Among much justifiable outrage about corporations already having too much power, one person tweeted that corporations shouldn’t get the vote until after every animal, insect, tree and plant does. My response: “Votes For Trees!”