I’ve been thinking a lot about trees lately.
I have a real connection with them. Not just the nice looking ones either, even the scraggly ones that look stick thin and lonely. When I look at them something stirs in me. It’s as if they are trying to talk to me. There is a beech tree in the woods not far from the house. It must be 100 years old and had a beautiful smooth, silvery bark. I think it could be a relative from a previous life. I’d love to be a tree. It would be so peaceful and I could stretch my roots under things and make them move.
My favourite place is in the woods, spending time with my own kind, snapping off branches and carving my name.