Sometimes a place has a soulful feeling about it. Off behind our house are three deserted farms which overlap in a series of fallow fields and gorse covered hillocks. Each of them has a farmyard haggard overgrowing with an ever increasing wildness. There are corners which have been long forgotten and hold memories and echoes of the past.
In the corner of a small grove this Ash tree commands a striking pose, back to a low wall and branches outstretched. Even in the sparsest winter this grove is a haven of lush wooded green. Mosses and ivy cover every inch of it.
If a tree could tell you something of it's individuality, this one speaks of confidence and ease. So perfect is it's setting that entering in here you immediately feel the carefulness that is required to delicately negotiate around the space, in case you might disturb things. Tiny pink wood anemones cover the earth and twisted matted ivy stems braid around the trees and their branches. It is almost like entering a green room more like a library or a small chapel than a forest.
The tree presides over the little grove like a sentry on duty or a mother embracing all protectively. Where most trees reach upwards, here is one that reaches outwards.
I go here each season and remember as Jung once said, “You will find yourself again only in the simple and forgotten things, why not go into the forest.....sometimes a tree tells you more than you read in books” There is no real separation between us and this tree. At least that's what my own instinct tells me when I am in it's shadow. Do you know what I mean?