The Trees of the Forest Sing for Joy

"Let the fields be jubilant and everything in them. Then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy!" (Psalm 96:12)

Have you ever felt the welcoming coolness of a forest on a sizzling day? Legs carrying you up and on, eyes on the hot soil at your feet and then all at once you feel it. First a cool breeze, a hint that something is about to change. Then you look up and its there, just as it was yesterday and all the days before, but always the same deep intake of breath, the same sense of sweetness as you surrender to its embrace.

My brother used to play a song on his guitar, written by a lone country boy that longed for the dusty road home. He also waxed lyrical about a "gall" who "filled up his senses, like a night in the forest". Giving away my age am I? My guess is that the forest filled up his senses, long after his senses and his beloved had left him.
One of my favourite scenes from Lord of the Rings (Part II) is when Merry and Pippin are carried along on the limbs of solemn old Treebeard the Ent, shepherd tree of Fanghorn Forest. Their destination is Isengard; there to face the evil Saruman's army, a threat to all that is good and pure on earth. Up there in their lofty shelter, they seemed unperturbed. My tree never walked, although I did hear it whisper, especially at times when I felt that nobody cared or understood - pre-teens for sure. Our childhood garden was not one of magic and mystery, rather a typical suburban arrangement of shrubs and neatly trimmed lawn. But an eight year old romantic found mystery in a triangular dovecote and sheer magic in the limbs of a Jacaranda tree. It was my castle in the air, a flying steed (without the complications of a handsome prince), and whatever else I wished it to be.

Thomas Pakenham embarked on a five-year odyssey to most of the temperate and tropical regions of the world to photograph sixty trees of remarkable personality and presence: Dwarfs, Giants, Monuments, and Aliens; the lovingly tended midgets of Japan; the enormous strangler from India; and the 4,700-year "Old Methuselahs".

We don't have a Pakenham in Hogsback, but we have a Paroz, a quiet Swiss horticulturist with a dry witt, sparkling eyes, an undeniable passion for plant life and needless to say; trees. As time goes on I'd like to introduce you to more members of our eccentric community, but since the topic is trees, he may have the first entrance. Our Arboretum, (this in a narrow sense is a collection of trees only. Related collections include shrubs and vines. More commonly, today, an arboretum is a botanical garden containing living collections of woody plants intended at least partly for scientific study) is lovingly tended by Monsieur Paroz and volunteers from the garden club. Here, giant Californian Redwood branches interlace with a myriad of exotic and indigenous trees to create a cool canopy. The fragrance of a forest is unforgettable, "filling the senses" and clearing out the cobwebs.  To give justice to this haven and its humble caretaker, would take a separate chapter, but to me it remains a place of peace and beauty, where God still walks with man amongst the trees of this earthly paradise.

Yesterday was a joyful day of planting at Inesi. Twelve elm trees now grace our verge and a Japanese Maple was earthed for our youngest. All generous gifts from the Paroz's at Mist Rising. Verges throughout the village are dappled with colours from their nursery, and in recent years his collection of miniature trees (bonsai) have become yet another source of marvel. An innocent bit of humour, kind off sums up his youthful spirit: "Two barn rats notice a bat dangling from the roof trusses. Look! the one rat says to his friend, an angel"...

I'll risk wrapping this up with an analogy that came to mind during my last forest walk. My eyes focused on the hot soil at my feet, I reflected once more on the fact that there just doesn't seem to be such a thing as an easy stroll on the "wild side" of Hogsback. Someone even once referred to us as "frontiers". Seems flattering, but I just know that this frontering business would have made no sense, if God had not literally sent us an invitation to be here. I'm not sure if we've acknowledged it fully, but by grace we abide. The voice that speaks in the forest breeze, that roars during a thunderstorm, that whispers when the snow falls, also silences and humbles me with the depth of His unfathomable love. Will I ever truly fathom the extent of  the sacrifice that Jesus made on that cursed "tree", so that I may go on my knees in the forest and hear Him say once again: "It is done". Through daily surrender to that immense truth, I am set free. To trust, to live and to shout: His Divine power has given me everything I need for life...!

"You will go out in joy and be let forth in peace. The mountains and hills will burst into song before you and the trees of the field will clap their hands"(Isaiah 55:12)