Thanks for this thoughtful post Hadden! It pained me to read about the Sycamore Gap tree and I resonate greatly with this : "I wince every time I hear the sound of a chainsaw rev up in my neighbourhood, for I know beauty is about to be felled." Our kitchen window looks out onto tall red pines in the adjacent conservation area. Recently a whole line was cut down to make way for hydro line repairs and it was painful to see the landscape so altered.
Thanks so much for this. Trees are some of my most cherished companions, and there are particular trees I feel an affinity for. We have a willow right outside the window where I am typing this comment. She is quiet today, throwing dappled light on the ground. Do you know this Gerard Manley Hopkins poem? It speaks to what you are saying in this post.
Binsey Poplars
BY GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS
felled 1879
My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled,
Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun,
All felled, felled, are all felled;
Of a fresh and following folded rank
Not spared, not one
That dandled a sandalled
Shadow that swam or sank
On meadow & river & wind-wandering weed-winding bank.
I hadn't come across this poem, Carri. Thank you for sharing it with me. Hopkins expresses very well what I was trying to do with this essay. He captures the despair and tragedy of untimely/destructive felling with perfect melancholy. And what a few lines these are:
Enjoyed this! As a forester, I do spend a lot of time thinking about trees in measures of board feet, tie logs, stave logs, etc., but I've also had the privilege of observing the trees in my region by their forms as well. It's been engaging to learn to recognize species not by their bark or buds or leaves but by their shape. Ashes, oaks, elms, cedars, all have certain patterns and are affected differently by their environment. It's cool!
It's also enjoyable to apply ecology—in my case often deciding which trees to let live and which to kill. My enjoyment is always metered by landowner objectives and economic concerns, but I'm looking forward to the day when I can work my own land and make decisions purely for the land's sake.
A little heresy is sometimes necessary, haha. Goodness knows the environmental orthodoxy is encumbered by industrial and political incentives. And I'm fortunate—my wife and I are working towards some options and allowing ourselves to dream.
I had no idea there was an audio version of this article. It looks like Substack, who host my site, put this on as a default for App users. I am trying to figure out how to turn this off as I assume the voice is AI and I try to avoid AI as much as possible.
Great essay. I enjoyed it. As I was reading I thought of the forests as networks deeply rooted in the history of the earth itself. Trees communicate with each other through their root systems and interact with the world above, as you described so well, in multiple ways. It's amazing how we continue to gain insights about how the survival of our species is tethered to these marvelous green giants. Alas, there are those among us who would disregard what we know and continue to destroy the Amazon rain forest and other vital green regions around the globe for short-term profits.
This is a great comment, I was trying to squeeze in a bit about the Mycelium into this essay - but alas, it was already too long! One day that will be a theme to write about for sure.
Destroying vast areas of wilderness is, like you say, akin to destroying unexplored beauty and untapped knowledge - sheer folly! Especially how the "Dreaded Company Named After A Rainforest" is a partner in the very destruction of its name sake.
Thank you for this essay, Hadden. Truly a beautiful reflection. I've never taken the time to notice and meditate on trees with such intention, but your writing has (as it often does) inspired me, and I will be carrying a deepened perspective with me from this point on.
As it happens, the area I live in (Northwest Arkansas) was recently struck by a tornado, and though I give thanks that so little loss of human life took place, the great number of trees, even very large ones, that were torn from the ground and thrown down, is a saddening thing.
Thanks Joel for your kind words - I am thrilled to hear the words I write have inspired you!
It is tragic to hear about that tornado, we are blessed in the UK with rather tame weather, but the Great Storm of 1987 (well before my time!) decimated a huge number of trees near me including many old veterans.
Well said, sir. It pains me greatly to see trees unnecessarily cut down, and it pleases me to have found others who feel the same way.
Now I'm sitting here thinking about trees and what exactly it is about them that is so compelling. There is an aspect of divinity about them, yet they are also companionable and somewhat human. I can completely understand why such things as dryads and sacred oaks came about, and Tolkien's ents. The combination of divinity and humanity in a tree reminds me of Christ, who died on one. Is it that, perhaps, that drives some to (even subconsciously) hate trees, and others to revere them?
This was a wonderful essay, and I share your sadness when I hear the roar of the chainsaw, a sound I've heard more and more in the past ten years. Environmentalists used to exhort us to plant more trees. Now trees are seen as a roadblock to progress. In my community, we have had clearcutting of woods and hedgerows for agricultural use for several years, and now a huge "megasite" for heavy industry has taken hundreds of trees and wildlife habitat near the Kalamazoo River. Just across the street from me, my neighbors have cut down three very large oak trees, for what reason I'm not sure. The sad huge trunks still lie in their yard. Now because of safety, I'm feeling forced to take down six large white pines next to my house because the tops of two of them came crashing down a couple of years ago during a rainstorm. I know they're probably unstable, but I love the cool temperatures and wildlife habitat they provide. One of the trunks whose top fell next to my house has become a favorite snag for woodpeckers. After the trees are taken out, I will try to immediately plant trees in their place, probably oaks. Anyway, this destruction of the landscape makes me very sad, so thank you for putting into words what has been in my heart and on my mind.
Thanks for this thoughtful post Hadden! It pained me to read about the Sycamore Gap tree and I resonate greatly with this : "I wince every time I hear the sound of a chainsaw rev up in my neighbourhood, for I know beauty is about to be felled." Our kitchen window looks out onto tall red pines in the adjacent conservation area. Recently a whole line was cut down to make way for hydro line repairs and it was painful to see the landscape so altered.
Thanks so much for this. Trees are some of my most cherished companions, and there are particular trees I feel an affinity for. We have a willow right outside the window where I am typing this comment. She is quiet today, throwing dappled light on the ground. Do you know this Gerard Manley Hopkins poem? It speaks to what you are saying in this post.
Binsey Poplars
BY GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS
felled 1879
My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled,
Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun,
All felled, felled, are all felled;
Of a fresh and following folded rank
Not spared, not one
That dandled a sandalled
Shadow that swam or sank
On meadow & river & wind-wandering weed-winding bank.
O if we but knew what we do
When we delve or hew —
Hack and rack the growing green!
Since country is so tender
To touch, her being só slender,
That, like this sleek and seeing ball
But a prick will make no eye at all,
Where we, even where we mean
To mend her we end her,
When we hew or delve:
After-comers cannot guess the beauty been.
Ten or twelve, only ten or twelve
Strokes of havoc unselve
The sweet especial scene,
Rural scene, a rural scene,
Sweet especial rural scene.
I hadn't come across this poem, Carri. Thank you for sharing it with me. Hopkins expresses very well what I was trying to do with this essay. He captures the despair and tragedy of untimely/destructive felling with perfect melancholy. And what a few lines these are:
Ten or twelve, only ten or twelve
Strokes of havoc unselve
The sweet especial scene
Enjoyed this! As a forester, I do spend a lot of time thinking about trees in measures of board feet, tie logs, stave logs, etc., but I've also had the privilege of observing the trees in my region by their forms as well. It's been engaging to learn to recognize species not by their bark or buds or leaves but by their shape. Ashes, oaks, elms, cedars, all have certain patterns and are affected differently by their environment. It's cool!
It's also enjoyable to apply ecology—in my case often deciding which trees to let live and which to kill. My enjoyment is always metered by landowner objectives and economic concerns, but I'm looking forward to the day when I can work my own land and make decisions purely for the land's sake.
I remember now that you are a forester, Wayne - I am glad I didn't write anything heretical from a good forestry perspective!
I can understand that longing to have your own land to make your own decisions based on ecology - what a dream to have.
A little heresy is sometimes necessary, haha. Goodness knows the environmental orthodoxy is encumbered by industrial and political incentives. And I'm fortunate—my wife and I are working towards some options and allowing ourselves to dream.
I enjoyed this. Many thanks, Hadden. If you're interested in literary allusions to arboricide, my friend Michael Gilleland has been collecting them for more than a decade: https://laudatortemporisacti.blogspot.com/search/label/arboricide
Hello, I too enjoyed your essay.
The vocal version---is that a human reading?
Thank-you.
Christine
Hello Christine,
Thank you for bringing this to my attention.
I had no idea there was an audio version of this article. It looks like Substack, who host my site, put this on as a default for App users. I am trying to figure out how to turn this off as I assume the voice is AI and I try to avoid AI as much as possible.
Hadden
Great essay. I enjoyed it. As I was reading I thought of the forests as networks deeply rooted in the history of the earth itself. Trees communicate with each other through their root systems and interact with the world above, as you described so well, in multiple ways. It's amazing how we continue to gain insights about how the survival of our species is tethered to these marvelous green giants. Alas, there are those among us who would disregard what we know and continue to destroy the Amazon rain forest and other vital green regions around the globe for short-term profits.
This is a great comment, I was trying to squeeze in a bit about the Mycelium into this essay - but alas, it was already too long! One day that will be a theme to write about for sure.
Destroying vast areas of wilderness is, like you say, akin to destroying unexplored beauty and untapped knowledge - sheer folly! Especially how the "Dreaded Company Named After A Rainforest" is a partner in the very destruction of its name sake.
Beautiful. Going to find some trees now.
Thank you for this essay, Hadden. Truly a beautiful reflection. I've never taken the time to notice and meditate on trees with such intention, but your writing has (as it often does) inspired me, and I will be carrying a deepened perspective with me from this point on.
As it happens, the area I live in (Northwest Arkansas) was recently struck by a tornado, and though I give thanks that so little loss of human life took place, the great number of trees, even very large ones, that were torn from the ground and thrown down, is a saddening thing.
Thanks Joel for your kind words - I am thrilled to hear the words I write have inspired you!
It is tragic to hear about that tornado, we are blessed in the UK with rather tame weather, but the Great Storm of 1987 (well before my time!) decimated a huge number of trees near me including many old veterans.
Well said, sir. It pains me greatly to see trees unnecessarily cut down, and it pleases me to have found others who feel the same way.
Now I'm sitting here thinking about trees and what exactly it is about them that is so compelling. There is an aspect of divinity about them, yet they are also companionable and somewhat human. I can completely understand why such things as dryads and sacred oaks came about, and Tolkien's ents. The combination of divinity and humanity in a tree reminds me of Christ, who died on one. Is it that, perhaps, that drives some to (even subconsciously) hate trees, and others to revere them?
This was a wonderful essay, and I share your sadness when I hear the roar of the chainsaw, a sound I've heard more and more in the past ten years. Environmentalists used to exhort us to plant more trees. Now trees are seen as a roadblock to progress. In my community, we have had clearcutting of woods and hedgerows for agricultural use for several years, and now a huge "megasite" for heavy industry has taken hundreds of trees and wildlife habitat near the Kalamazoo River. Just across the street from me, my neighbors have cut down three very large oak trees, for what reason I'm not sure. The sad huge trunks still lie in their yard. Now because of safety, I'm feeling forced to take down six large white pines next to my house because the tops of two of them came crashing down a couple of years ago during a rainstorm. I know they're probably unstable, but I love the cool temperatures and wildlife habitat they provide. One of the trunks whose top fell next to my house has become a favorite snag for woodpeckers. After the trees are taken out, I will try to immediately plant trees in their place, probably oaks. Anyway, this destruction of the landscape makes me very sad, so thank you for putting into words what has been in my heart and on my mind.
I enjoyed reading this. Thank you for making me think deeper about trees.
My pleasure, Sharon. Promoting deep thinking is my aim in these essays so I am very glad this is your response.
This is excellent! Thanks for sharing
My pleasure, Ronald, and thanks again for your kind words on Notes.