The Benevolence of Trees

Several months ago I began a series of photo/essays for a project. This is the ninth essay in the series. It’s called…

The Benevolence of Trees

I am a lover of trees. Just as I need air to breathe I need trees to flourish in life. Trees are my friends, my confidants, and my muses. I go to the woods when I need to find solace or peace. And there is nowhere I would rather be than among the trees for awhile simply soaking in their benevolence.

I was born to the wild. I come from the wild. I can’t tell if my blood is in the trees or if the trees are in my blood.”

― Suzanne Simard, Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest

Whenever I am walking under a canopy of trees I feel seen, protected, guided and loved. Do you also sense the wisdom and compassion of trees? How they love unconditionally and stand patiently through all kinds of weather? And how they take in air and water and transform it into wood, bark, roots, leaves, fruit? Unlike us humans who breathe in air and breathe out carbon dioxide, trees breathe in air through their leaves and exhale oxygen. So in a way they are our perfect companions — they need the carbon dioxide we exhale and we need the oxygen they exhale.

The cold winds blow and snow falls and still the trees stand silently. A thaw comes and fog is in the air. Still they stand. Somehow when the days begin to lengthen and winter thaws they know when to begin pumping up sap from their roots to grow leaf buds into the leaves that they will soon unfurl. All summer long their leaves are little factories taking in water and air and turning them into food for new growth. Contemplating the trees’ life cycle fills me with wonder.

Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

— Herman Hesse

I have not traveled widely, but I have spent time on the island of Cyprus, and on the Big Island of Hawaii, as well as in Florida, Arkansas, Kansas, Massachusetts, Iowa (where I grew up) New Mexico, Arizona, Idaho, California, Colorado, and Minnesota. Of all those places, Minnesota (where I live now) is the place I love the most because of it’s many trees, lakes, rivers and wild places.

Even as a child I loved trees though there were not a lot of trees growing among the corn fields I grew up surrounded by. We had a grove of trees on our farm (planted as a windbreak) and a couple of trees planted in our yard in front of our house. But everywhere else on the 160 acre farm there were no trees.

Still, I was drawn to the trees that we had. And when I attended Iowa State University, the ISU Arboretum was one of my favorite places to spend time. Spending time with the trees there was an escape from the noise and chaos of dormitory living for me during my college years. I called it my “real church” and I went there when I was in need for quiet contemplation.

Though I live in a suburb of Minneapolis, there are so many trees throughout the city and suburbs, and lakes and parks scattered all around that I am never far from a trail that can feel totally wild, secluded and surrounded by trees. There is a remnant of the Big Woods that once covered much of Minnesota preserved as a scientific and natural area not far from where I live. I’ve been hiking those woods for almost 30 years now. And I never tire of being there. The trees feel like benevolent giants soaring up into the sky.

In the fall I go to those woods to experience the golden leaves of sugar maples towering high above me. Sometimes the leaves drift down all around me and the trail below my feet is covered with them — gold above me, gold below me, gold all around me. I truly feel as if I am in God’s cathedral.

The older trees are able to discern which seedlings are their own kin. The old trees nurture the young ones and provide them food and water just as we do with our own children. It is enough to make one pause, take a deep breath, and contemplate the social nature of the forest and how this is critical for evolution. The fungal network appears to wire the trees for fitness. And more. These old trees are mothering their children. The Mother Trees. When Mother Trees—the majestic hubs at the center of forest communication, protection, and sentience—die, they pass their wisdom to their kin, generation after generation, sharing the knowledge of what helps and what harms, who is friend or foe, and how to adapt and survive in an ever-changing landscape. It’s what all parents do.

― Suzanne Simard, Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest

It’s December now and most of the trees are bare, standing naked in the cold winds and snow. I look outside my windows at the bare trees waiting patiently through these winter days and try to learn from them about patience. It is a lifelong journey for me. I greet each winter with sadness, longing for warmer days and leaf covered trees. But winter is a necessary part of living in Minnesota. And it’s probably the reason this place is so full of the wild nature that I love.

The cold winds blow and snow falls and still the trees stand silently. A thaw comes and fog is in the air. Still they stand. Somehow when the days begin to lengthen and winter thaws they know when to begin pumping up sap from their roots to grow leaf buds into the leaves that they will soon unfurl. All summer long their leaves are little factories taking in water and air and turning them into food for new growth. Contemplating the trees’ life cycle fills me with wonder.

In the fall, trees begin to harden off or acclimate themselves to harsh winter conditions beginning with lower temperatures and shorter days. Deciduous trees and shrubs shed leaves and transfer sap into the roots. They develop an “anti-freeze” solute that protects cells within the plant tissue from freezing during winter dormancy.

As I get older I feel as if I too need to learn to harden off so that I can become wise and be open to the world around me without becoming overwhelmed by it.

When I am out in the woods I try to see everything without filters or even words to describe what I am seeing, noticing shapes, textures, patches of color, and glimmers of light. I slow down, soak in, and feel knocked breathless by the beauty of it all. The trees are my benevolent teachers and guides. And I will never tire of spending time with them.

It is a spiritual practice, taking intention and concentration to let go of what I think I know and allow myself to simply experience sensations without words. If I relax my eyes so that they are barely focused I get a sense magic all around me. It’s devilishly difficult to do this but well worth the effort.

Like Mary Oliver says in her poem How I Go to the Wood, I usually go to the woods alone. It is much easier to tune in and take in the wonder and benevolence of trees alone.

If you have every gone to the woods with me, I must love you very much.

— Mary Oliver

May you walk in beauty.

Note: You can read this photo essay on my new Substack account HERE. I am planning to discontinue writing this blog at the end of this year and transition totally to my Substack account. If you want to continue to subscribe to my posts, please subscribe there. The added benefit is that when you receive the posts, the entire post, including photos, will be contained in the email.