Children and Trees

This weekend we came to town to look after the grandchildren. Great excitement! Mr 8 ran and greeted us with big hugs. Miss 12 was busy crafting in her bedroom – making a beautiful photo book for her friend’s birthday. Children and trees. It struck me – something in common: living life in the present, responding to the here and now, the ups and downs, the joys and sadness. I don’t want mama and dada to go says Mr 8, downcast. Then, eyes lighting up, can we go to the zoo this weekend? Sure we say.

So we’ve left our home on the island for 4 months. What are you going to do about talking with the tree, people ask. I don’t know. I did talk to her about going away and she was very gracious. She said, you’ll be back, I’ll be happy to see you back. I told her about the family who will be living there while we’re away – a couple with a 7-year-old. She was equanimous. I guess she’s seen so much, what’s another family for a while?

I’ve wondered whether we can still talk at a distance? I haven’t tried yet, but I will. I’ve also thought I could perhaps talk to other trees while we are on our travels. We are staying in town for a few weeks and catching up with family here, then down country to visit my 98-year-old dad, then off to Tasmania to stay with family there and trip around in a caravan for a month or two. It’s all pretty open-ended. Anyway, back to the tree. We have had quite a few conversations that I have made notes on and would love to report, so I’ll probably do that, and explore the other options as we go. I like talking with trees and I’m hopeful I’ll find some others willing to have a chat.

Meanwhile, while we were very reluctant to leave our newly refurbished home and I was particularly sad about leaving the tree, whose presence has assumed such a significant place in our lives. But, fickle as we are, now we are on our way the excitement of new adventures is rising. Of course, this is somewhat tempered. The world is still a crazy place out there. I spent an hour or so reading about the meeting in the Oval Office last night in bed (I know I know – golden rule, don’t scroll on your phone before turning out the light). So yes, I felt very agitated, and had a restless sleep as a result. I do feel the need to keep informed though, but perhaps better to read the news earlier in the day and leave evenings for relaxation and pleasure. We did watch a sweet movie with the grandchildren in the evening and that would have been an ideal segue to bed and a good book, without the disruption of world politics in between. How do we balance both?

This weekend was a great lesson in being present (until the late-night scrolling). Saturday morning the kids were restless after their parents departed. Let’s go for walk I said. Everyone agreed. We took an urban coastal track nearby, so serene with the still, calm sea, clouds reflecting, and abundant coastal natives. Pōhutukawa like ours, with their gnarly trunks and overhanging leafy branches, regenerating coprosma, and flaxes and grasses planted by council workers and volunteer groups. The mangroves are particularly stunning, growing in the muddy waters of the harbour edge and creating picturesque dappled light displays that Miss 12 took delight in photographing.

There were many such moments as we responded to the requests to do this and that and go here and there. Five or six hours spent at the zoo on Sunday – we lost track of time. Gazing at the wonders of the natural world, and being gazed at back. The beady eyes of the Australian cockatoo as much to say “how ya goin” in typical Aussie fashion, and the Orangutang family delighting in entertaining the crowd through the glass, each action leading to an “oooh” or “ahhh” prompting another to keep us amused. Of course, there’s always the undercurrent when visiting a zoo. How many of these animals are endangered? Are they really ok here in captivity? If they weren’t, would they survive? What’s the world coming to that we have to have zoos to keep wildlife alive?

That’s the balance isn’t it. We humans have created a monster. We have caused so much destruction and loss, and yet paradoxically we are now the ones who can save the natural world. Or not. Nan, calls out Mr 8, can we have waffles for breakfast? Of course we can. Back to present. Children and trees help us to ground. Remind us of what matters, living here, now, finding the bowl, the flour, breaking in the eggs, pouring in the milk, whisking it all together, counting our blessings.