against all odds
When we enter a beautiful woodland setting, we are caught in a moment of admiration: one that is capable of lifting our spirits, touching emotions that lie deeper and are more meaningful to us than almost anything else in life.
I became enchanted by trees, our woodland treasures; the role they have to play on this earth, their size, their beauty and their serenity. My favourite woodland tree is the beech (Fagus Sylvaticus) — ‘The Queen of the Woods’ — which was brought here by the Romans. I love its form, tall and strong, the shape and feel of its leaves, smooth, glossy and deeply veined also the pattern and rough texture of the bark. Even a crack in the bark of a tree is a capacious and secret hideout for many insects. I loved to listen to the wind passing through its arching branches and marvelled at its technicolour splendour in the autumn. I would sit for hours watching mice and squirrels collecting the heavy seeds of the oak and beech — they cannot resist the oily starchy seeds and will endeavour to plant them close to the base of the tree, thus making their contribution to the next generation of woodland trees. Jays however, carry the seeds of the Oak much further afield to ensure a plentiful supply of food throughout the winter and hopefully the ones they forget will germinate and grow on the outer fringes of the wood.
Trees have a lifespan just like us; the beech can live up to two hundred and twenty years and beyond. I would often sit at the base of a grandfather tree and wonder who had passed this way before, whilst listening to a cacophony of birdsong. When all was quiet the ghosts of pilgrims could be felt in the stillness of the air. When a mature tree tumbles and falls to the ground it becomes a kind of midwife to the young deciduous trees. As its storage of water is released it cools the hot summer air to a more breathable temperature, and as time goes by this fallen tree will be a food source and a home to a myriad of small creatures and fungi, it will eventually decompose and create rich humus to nourish the woodland plants and trees.
I would love to listen to the sweet harpsichord sound of the wind as it rushed through the trees and watched in wonder the ticker tape of falling leaves tumbling to the ground. I have observed the sudden switchback flight of the woodpecker frantically searching for grubs and beetles to feed her hungry brood, nestled in a hole deep inside the crevice of a majestic oak, and who could mistake the heron’s silhouette as it winged its way overhead and watch in wonder the fragile flight of a butterfly in a nectar rich hawthorn hedge, how it never damaged its delicate wings on the many thorns. To see a shy nymph who never ventured more than a few metres from where she was born, diligently guarding her home; but if you tried to catch her you never would — it’s just like happiness, for she would come to you.
On the woodland floor, a carpet of wood anemones and celandines shone like jewels through the shady tree canopy which were lit by shafts of filtered sunlight breaking through. The earthy smell of the humus rich leaf mould and the pungent aroma of the ransoms (wild garlic) crushed under foot as you carefully made your way along the well-trodden path. Just to run your hands through the delicate ferns and mosses in the shady dampened areas of the woodland floor and to wander gently and carefully through this rich carpet would bring a feeling of peace and calm.
I visited the woods through all seasons as I never wanted to miss the many changing moods therein. The soft fall of rain through the canopy would change the mood once again. The sounds, the smells and the freshness of the air, the raindrops changing colour as they settled on the leaves before they gently tumbled to the ground, giving much needed life to all it’s inhabitants, those we see and to those where no eyes can follow.
Autumn would now take over highlighting the vast array of fungus from the edible to the most poisonous toadstools of every size, shape and colour. The wonderful kaleidoscope as the leaves changed from green to yellow, orange, red and then to brown drifting slowly to the floor. I loved to run through the deep carpet of leaves, the sound and feel of them crunching and rustling beneath my feet, kicking them into the air as I ran through the deep multi- coloured carpet. The rustle of the leaves as birds and mammals scratched in the leaf litter in search of the plentiful supply of food beneath, and then just before darkness engulfed the scene around me a tawny owl flew overhead etched against the inky sky.
Frost and snow brought its own special mood, with the woods becoming noticeably quiet. The leafless canopy enabled the soft snow to drift gently down and settle on the woodland floor changing the landscape yet again, whilst casting a delicate light throughout the wood highlighting the many varied animal tracks of those who had passed through the night before. As winter drew on the statuesque trees were waking from their slumber, things were stirring deep within in anticipation of the new life to come. Plants and animals were waking from their long winter sleep and I was there to witness it all.
This wonderful place was like a gentle breeze blowing away the many dark clouds. There were times when I would reflect back to my childhood. When I would sense a memory breaking through the surface like a sea monster, all of this and so much more would come washing over me dressed in that repressive gloom. I knew at the time and still sense the ghost of that feeling. I would then feel a wave of repose, a peaceful serenity and became released from my emotional chains. This beautiful woodland had touched me with the artistry of a magic wand, bringing harmony and solace back into my world.
Whilst suffering intolerable pain year after year, feeling totally alone and not knowing what the future held for me I took myself off the woods once again, for there waiting for me was the mother who held me in her arms, comforted me, eased my pain and understood my anguish. I needed to find another way. I was never given any medication to relieve my pain and suffering; no-one counselled me to see how my head injury or my memory problem was affecting my life or to offer me words of comfort and encouragement. There were no follow up appointments with doctors or specialists to see how I was progressing, no-one to tell of my desperate situation, even my family had written me off. I was left to find my own way of coping and self-healing but through the process of mindfulness I came through those long dark years. I now had a reason to go on with my life, and with the aid of my precious little notebooks I came through, after all this was all I had.
I would then look upon my own unexpected situation and began to put it all to wonderful use. There is a way that nature speaks to us. Most of the time we are simply too busy, we are not patient or quiet enough to pay attention to the story and how it unfolds. But we have rifled only fragments of nature’s huge storeroom of secrets. I now understand what will really deliver the balance, the bliss that I have craved. Woodlands win on every front, they are good for people, good for nature and they also offer restorative powers to people with physical and mental health problems in such ways that are entirely compatible with beauty. They can turn a breakdown into a breakthrough and abate your sadness.
All my life I have been inspired by the beauty of nature and for a long time I have enjoyed the peace and spiritual enlightenment which only the contact with nature can bring. Every day I was taken on a spiritual journey to a different place where I was never judged or demised, a place where I had a sense of self worth, a place of belonging. I must now give thanks to the many wonderful trees, plants and creatures that have allowed me to become a part of their rich lives. They are the ones that had all the stories to tell, I merely undertook to translate them to you. What a wonderful place this world is when viewed through a child’s dreaming eyes of wonder. And the darkness you may ask, well this seemed to drift away into a different galaxy far away.
The boy who became ‘A Far Away Fellow’
