If trees could talk ...

I must say that I love painting and drawing trees. I think that some family and friends ended up with cards and small paintings with trees as a result of this.

 I like how some of them are curved and bent revealing something more about their lives and experiences not being always straight forward growth upwards. Some grown into fences and railings when men have tried to impose onto their territory. I am fond of the branches stretching out to the sides as well as to heaven as if to reach out to everyone and welcome all the passersby to sit down in the shade, rest and dream. I love the different seasons reflected in them. I love spring and the greens, whites and pinks as well as many other colours when the trees wake up. I love how autumn colours the leaves with different warm colours giving us last farewells before the well deserved sleep. I like the trees laden with fruit in summer luring us to try and taste. I love the trees laden with snow, making them sparkly, white and bright in the winter sun.

Despite living in the city, there are still many interesting and beautiful trees around and I guess that I have learnt to appreciate them much more as I no longer live in a small town where one felt always quite close to the countryside surrounding the town. I like the playfulness of white birch trees, the weight of the world on the branches willows by the rivers. I like the conker trees inviting children to play. I like linden tree, my own country’s national tree though it makes me sneeze.

I guess that trees remind me of people, many varieties and some fruitful more than others. They are silent witnesses to seasons past and awaiting future ahead as we do. Some living longer than we do and some not. When looking inside, their tree rings reveal the life they have lived. I can only hope that we also learn to realise that what goes on the inside of us is more important than what is on the surface as appearance is deceiving and fleeting. All of us will age and grow old and wrinkly and all the wrinkles tell stories of our lives and we need to cherish them. We can only bear fruit if we are well rooted and in fertile soil. It does not matter whether we are perfectly looking but what matters is whether the fruit that we bear is sweet....