The memory of trees

and hope for a future

Kathryn A. LeRoy

Aug 6, 2022

A large tree with branchesa nd trunk touching the groundwith leaves that seem to be dancing in the wind against the same green of the field with a blue sky and clouds in the background. — Dancing Tree © Kathryn LeRoy

Hello friends,

I don’t have any pets unless you count trees.

I know. Trees don’t curl up in your lap and purr softly, but they speak as their leaves rustle through the wind. By studying trees, you’ll learn how trees communicate through roots and mycorrhizal networks to send information to each other.

You can’t teach trees tricks or take them on long walks in the forest. But you can enjoy trees in the woods or backyard as you rest beneath the cool shade of its canopy. You might even see birds searching for insects or squirrels looking for nuts or berries growing in those trees.

An old, tall tree hovers over a stone and glass building with a brilliant ble sky and wispy clouds in the background. A small pot of flowers sits on the stone wall at the bottom right — A Place to Rest © Kathryn LeRoy

Maybe, you’ll quietly lean against the trunk and gaze at the clouds chasing each other through limbs and leaves.

I love trees with the same enthusiasm that most people have for their four-legged friends. When did this like-long love begin?

I remember sitting under my grandmother’s persimmon tree, eating slices of sweet, sticky watermelon just picked from her garden.

Any tree that provided a foothold low enough for me to begin my ascent into the magical made me taller and my view of the world wider.

a black and whoite photograph of a tall leafy tree in the foreground, wispy clouds in the background — Reaching to the Sky © Kathryn LeRoy

Over the years, the saplings my dad planted yielded figs and pecans that nourished us physically and, for me, emotionally. I didn’t understand how trees contributed to our well-being, but I felt it deeply. I still do.

When I see vast plots of land stripped bare, I mourn what we have lost, the animals, insects, fungi, and all the biomes left without a home. We only see what humans need and want, and we take it.

You can never replace a beloved pet, each brings a unique personality and gift into your life, but you can get another. We can’t turn back the clock to a time before deforestation, but we can plant new trees and create green spaces where people and nature coexist.

The aspen trees that intertwine their roots to stand against the harsh winter winds in the mountains have lessons worth considering.

What if we joined together with one another and nature to strengthen the environment and our relationships to create a kinder world?

a stand of white bark aspen trees on a mountain side with green and yellow foliage in the bottom foreground — Aspen Trees © Kathryn LeRoy

A poem and story about how trees hide secrets and little girls.

What happens if you cut down all of a city's trees? Find out in this history and science lesson.

Enya’s musical tribute to the Memory of Trees.

“The green oak and cedar—the dark pine, the yellow and silvery-barked willow—each majestic old tree; hath its own peculiar tone and whisper for thine ear.”
― Elizabeth J. Eames

“What we are doing to the forests of the world is but a mirror reflection of what we are doing to ourselves and to one another.”
― Chris Maser

Find a little wonder this week in the presence of trees.

A pathway with the sun piercing through the tees and foliage on either side — Light Among the Trees © Kathryn LeRoy

With gratitude,

Kathryn

Thanks for reading. Feel free to forward this weekly note to someone who would enjoy a few words of inspiration. And I always welcome your thoughts, so, please do . . .