One of the journalling prompts I had recently was to consider how trees have featured in memories and in particular, if there is a favourite tree. We were then asked to think about if we were a tree, what kind would we be. For the first one, all the trees that came to mind were trees in the gardens of places important to me: the damson tree in my grandparents’ garden; the much-maligned beech tree in my parents’ old house; a tree I climbed with friends when we went on a bank holiday picnic way back when; the hornbeams in our garden.
If I were a tree, I would like to be a cherry tree with beautiful blossoms in the spring and sweet fruit in the summer. In the winter, bare and stark. Or I would like to be a mighty old oak tree with a treehouse and acorns. Or I would be a cedar tree with strong low branches idea for climbing and with lush scented foliage for cool shade. Green and vibrant all year round. In any case, I would like to have the strength, to be rooted and secure. I would like to nurture, to shelter.