“I’ve missed you,” I said to the Black Walnut Tree as I lay my hand upon its tall and massive trunk.
“I know.”
This is the tree that calls to me.
This is the tree that has shown me patterns in the branches of the wood and introduced me to the visual orchestral movements and music of the wind that passes through the creek bottom. This is the tree that has appeared in healing sessions with clients, explaining to them, and to me, the connectedness of the Tree Collective. They are all able to communicate with each other. Even trees that grow somewhere other than Earth .
This is the tree that has only just begun to share with me its wisdom. I would spend more time here if I could. It really is my friend.
In the past few days we have had visitors to the farm and I have introduced human friends to the tree. I have tucked some of its green nuts into hands and told the story of dropping one into a deep crack in hot August ground some fifty-five years ago:
“Daddy what is this?” I held a green ball in my hand circa 1966. “Its a black walnut. Its like a seed for a tree.” Mesmerized, I turned it over in my hand. “So if I put it into the ground a tree will grow?” Daddy smiled and said, “First that green ball will shrivel and turn black, then the black part will fall away to leave a nut, which is a seed for the walnut tree. That’s how it works.” It was so hot and dry that summer I had to be careful where I put my foot. The cracks could capture my little foot easily. I think I thought of dropping the little green ball as some sort of offering to keep my feet safe. It fell quite a distance down the dry hole as I recall.
I don’t think Daddy really thought a tree would appear in that spot the following Spring, but he must have remembered and paid attention to where we were standing. The little sapling was spared being mown down with the grasses of the following year and that walnut tree now stands tall on the family’s home property in town.
“It is that tree that introduced us. We have a deep connection.”
There is a little hollow right there where I am sitting at the base of the tree. It is as if it was made for my physical form. My spine aligns with the trunk and even the bark. My lower back is supported. My seat is held comfortably in the shallow bowl created by the roots. This is one of my favorite places on the entire planet. I return when I can and when I can’t I visit in my mind.
A small storm passed by a couple of days ago, we got some nice rain without a lot of wind. I took a walk to the creek. When I got to the Black Walnut Tree I noticed a rather large limb had fallen off of it. It was about 10 inches in diameter, maybe 20 feet long. The ends of the branches fell closest to the base of the tree. Just in front of where my knees are in the photo above. Green nuts were all around.
The astonishing thing to me was that I saw no new branches down from other trees. We have thousands of trees on the property. It was hard to imagine the storm was the “cause” of the limb coming down when no other tree seemed affected.
I took my place in the shallow.
Along with the lines the branches were more offerings of green nuts. Was that why the branch fell? There were dozens of visible little green balls peeking through the lovely green leaves. Was this tree returning the favor of my own offering of nearly 6 decades prior? I imagined people, perhaps my own grandchildren, dropping these nuts into the earth. What kinds of communication could we create? It was then that I heard the tree whisper:
“Gather and disperse.”
I smiled and felt a warmness come to my heart. Walking back to the house I made a mental note to look for my favorite woven willow basket to bring back on my next walk.
