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Redwood Path #2 by Sean O'Gara

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Literally the worst thing I’ve ever heard.

There is a method of growing rhubarb known as “forcing” where the plant grows in complete darkness and is tended to in candlelight. It grows so quickly during this process that you can hear it grow. [1, 2]

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Great River Bluffs State Park, MN [OC] [4000x5000]

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A foggy day at the local forest by 90377 Instagram | Etsy Shop

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Nightmares

A tree on fire after a lightning strike

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Foals’ 2015 album What Went Down is pure brilliance, and it’s undeniably one of my favorites of that year. Birch Tree is but one of many splendid tunes off the album. French producer Pyramid gives us a very new look at the song via his brilliant re-work of the tune, one which he calls the “Space” remix. Birch Tree takes on ethereal and metaphysical qualities on the transcendental edit. Pyramid aimed for the remix to represent a secret place with a powerful significance, a place where spirits can meet. His smooth arpeggios, spacey synths, and weighty drums fully achieve that effect, giving us an entrancing and profound, dreamy and introspective experience. I simply cannot get enough of this breathtaking edit. Pyramid takes me time and time again to hallowed grounds with his magical and spiritual remix. Head over to Soundcloud to download the track for free.

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nature is watching us.

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“Truth is all around us. We don’t have to look for it, we only have to allow the delusions that cover our eyes fall away.”  ~ Michael Kewley

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Birch forest.“Great Moor”. Sassenburg / Gifhorn / Lower Saxony / Germany.

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Various Picrews

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The first time I saw them it was late spring. Pop had died and I moved into the farmhouse to take care of the beehives. She was walking with a little girl at her side and I thought it was a little odd because the woods are a ways off the dirt road and there isn’t another house for three miles. But every now and then you get folk wandering through here. I was out in the field, fixing the electric fence that keeps out raccoons and bears and since it was the neighbourly thing to do, gave them a wave.  “Good morning!” I called. “Nice day for a walk!” The woman smiled and gave me a little wave. I figured her for a fashion model or maybe an actress because of how tall she was. I don’t think the little girl looked more than seven or eight that spring. “Yes, lovely day for a walk with the trees, isn’t it?”  The woman replied before they continued on their way. The second time I saw them was mid-winter. I’d just finished scraping ice and snow off the porch and sanding the driveway when I saw them again.  I got real worried because it looked like the little girl only had a light coat.  The woman was carrying a small bundle that looked like it was probably a baby. This kind of weather... those little ones should be inside where it was warm... 

I leaned the shovel up against the house and started out across the field. “Hello again. Good morning.” “Hello,” the woman replied, giving me a smile. She didn’t look cold and neither did the little girl.  They both should have been cold. I was cold and I’d spent the last hour shovelling. 

“This might seem a little odd, but I was wondering if you and your daughter could help me with a little problem I have...” The woman tilted her head at me and looked at me with big green eyes. I scrubbed a hand over my beard self-consciously while She waited for me to continue. 

“It’s a little silly,” I said trying desperately to think of something on the spot. “I dropped an old coin of my grandpas, and it rolled under this big old wooden hutch I have in the dining room... And well, my hands are too big to reach underneath. I think your little girl might have small enough arms to reach under and get it...”

I don’t think she blinked the whole entire time I fumbled through my excuse. The more I said the more ridiculous it sounded and she was probably going to think I was an axe murderer or hillbilly cannibal or something.  

But then she turned to the little one who had been watching me with big green eyes exactly like her mothers. “What do you think? Would you like to help this man out?” She asked.

The little girl shrugged her skinny shoulders. “Okay.” She said simply. 

“I really appreciate the help. My name’s Aiden. Aiden [lastname].”

I said finally feeling it was right to introduce myself. The woman didn’t reply right away but introduced herself as Marigold Silva. “And this is.... Laurel.” 

 Laurel, the little girl looked at her mother in curious interest. I found out later that she named all three of them on the spot. The baby, it was indeed a baby I found out, was so small I thought he might be one of those incubator babies born too early. She Said he was called Fern. It was quaint the way they were all named after plants.  We walked back to the house and while they took off their soaked shoes in the hallway, I slid a quarter under the old hutch. Well just like I thought, the little girl was able to reach right under and fished the quarter out for me.  I pretended she made my day, and she smiled.  “Wel it’s a pleasure to meet you, ms Silva. I was going to make some coffee, would you like to stay and warm up? I might have some hot cocoa somewhere for Laurel.” “I’d like that, thank you.” Marigold said. Laurel, once she’d had the hot cocoa, started to talk excitedly about the trees in the forest and dominated the conversation until Marigold decided it was time to leave.  When I looked at the clock, I realized it was almost four o’clock and the sun was starting to set. I saw marigold and laurel and the little baby Fern several more times that winter and that spring, I asked them to move in.  I don’t know if I expected her to say Yes, and I’m still not exactly sure why she did, but  I found myself rather happy about the situation. Laurel talked and sang almost constantly while she played in the fields and the forest that spring and summer. Her mother homeschooled her with books we picked out in the library and only took her into town for music lessons. That had been tradition in my house and I suggested it.  Grandma made all us kids learn an instrument as we were growing up. She said it was good for the mind and it just seemed right to continue the tradition now that I was starting to think of Laurel and Fern as my own kids.  I’d played piano up until I was sixteen or thereabouts, and my sister Meg had played violin.  It made both Laurel and her mother happy when she excelled at it and I gave her  meg’s old violin to practice on.

Fern worried me at first. He never cried or fussed like babies do and he was still so tiny. He didn’t seem to grow either.   She carried him everywhere and he was content to look at the world with big hazel eyes. Marigold assured me he was healthy and strong and there was no need to rush the young years. He had all the time in the world to grow up.   Once they moved in, she would put him in my arms where he would usually fall asleep.  “He will grow like a weed in a few years. You’ll wish back for these days.” 

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Listen to the sound the trees are making when you are among them. They know so much more than you. If the trees are telling you to get out, I advise you listen.

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Purple Gorge, Dreamy Stanton 2 & Dreamy Stanton

by James Mills

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SNOWY BURL TREEHOUSE ♥

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