Chattels

The Obsessive Diary

I planted the tiny oak from my mother’s wake, they were dotted about the barn, there’s a much larger one coming, but I planted the little one on my day off yesterday, and sat with it and spoke, hoping it felt all right and would settle in, would grow. Vix and I had been chatting about conversations with trees, how they hear us and we hear them. There’s a willow in my garden that shivers with hellos when I go near. Vix said, try saying, you can touch my face if you like and see what happens. I stood near the low branches of a maple and said exactly this, and the branch wavered closer, the leaves brushed my cheek. Trees speak. Trees, like every other life form, are conscious. They can hear us. Listen to

Rupert Sheldrake

‘s “banned” Tedx. I did yesterday although I didn’t need persuading. I already knew.