Sometimes when visitors come to the great forest they
hear a sound. It’s unfamiliar to them but pleasant. It’s deep, almost out of
the range of human hearing. Sometimes they think it is the wind playing among
the rocks and pinnacles of the mountains themselves. Some even think it might
be a sort of ringing deep in the bones of the mountains. A natural process
surely.
“Mommy,” a small girl or boy will say, “what is that noise? It makes my ears buzz a little.”
And then, perhaps, Mommy will say, “I think it might be the wind vibrating fir branches, Honey.”
The wind, which is said to be prideful, is perfectly happy to be blamed for the intriguing deep sound.
When the sound ends, and all the expected noises in a forest resume, most of them let the strange deep resonance sink deeply into their memories. The picnics commence. Photos are taken. There is so much to admire, so much to just absorb.
Then, paradoxically, rested and tired, the happy visitors hop in their vehicles and leave the forest right before sunset. The peace of the forest will stay with them for days, maybe weeks.
There was a day when Ralph was sitting with his children, telling them stories, no doubt. That was his way of getting them up to speed with who they are. On that day, Cherry, who was getting to be a rather big girl of maybe five years, spoke to her father.
“Da’, a tree is dying.”
“Oh? How do you know, Cherry?” asked Ralph. “That is a serious matter.”
“I looked at the ends of the branches, Da’. There are no new buds, like all the other trees have. I went up there, and I looked,” Cherry said, earnestly. “Also, I couldn’t hear it.”
As he looked at the little blond creature leaning on his knee, Ralph knew that she had been up in the branches of some fir tree. She hadn’t forgotten how to do that, but he and Ramona had asked Cherry to please stay on the ground most of the time, at least when she was alone at play.
“You couldn’t hear the tree doing its song?” said Ralph.
“It didn’t sound like anything!” said Cherry. “It’s dying!” She wept a few little tears gazing up into his face. Ralph realized that this was a serious matter that required his immediate attention.
“Mona,” he said, “Cherry and I must go see about a tree. We will be back before night comes!” Ramona nodded as if to say, “of course.”
“Take me to this tree, Cherry,” said Ralph, standing up, preparing for a walk.
“Yes, Da’. It’s way past your big log!” answered his child.
With that, they set off together. Ralph walking, and Cherry more or less floating by his right elbow. They walked and floated past his famous log/office, where a lot of serious king business was conducted, and then deeper into the forest.
Great trunks gathered round. Dark, greenish, nearly black bark watched them as they went. You could say they sighed for the trees know their earthly king when he passes. Their arboreal souls were lifted up. It’s a mystery!
At last they came to a place where the path became very indistinct. A deep grove of ancient Douglas Firs stood there as if in waiting.
“This one, Da’,” Cherry said, drifting over to one particular trunk, old and massive.
Now, it is true that each tree had a light whispery song, if a person had ears to hear it.
Ralph came near this one and laid his head against the trunk, and reached his arms around it in a mighty embrace. He listened for a long few moments. He nodded to Cherry waiting beside himself.
“This one is tired, Cherry. Just very tired,” said Ralph at last. “Not dying.”
“Did she tell you why she is so tired?” said Cherry. She looked like a little blossom floating there in the dim light, waiting on his words.
“A forest spirit wept here, Cherry,” said Ralph. “She laid her head here,” he said, indicating a spot low on the great dark trunk. “She came here deep in sorrow, and as she lay here she drew strength from the tree. She lay here until her heart was light again and went her way.”
“Oh,” said Cherry.
“Help me, Cherry. I will sing to her, and we shall see what we shall see! Come and put your two hands on her trunk, here and here.”
So, Cherry put her two hands, here and here, and closed her eyes to listen.
Ralph sang that deep song. The same song the forest visitors hear sometimes and don’t understand. He sang for a long time, until the day changed and began to darken a little. He sang until the tired tree heard his singing and was healed.
“That’s enough, Cherry. We should go home now,” said Ralph. “Your dear mother will be looking for us.”
“We will visit this tree again. You’ll see. She will be fine and making good little buds too,” said Ralph, as they walked, and floated, back down the way to the Home Clearing.
Soon, they could see the fire glowing way down the path. Twigg and the puma brothers were there, and Ramona stood there watching Ralph and Cherry return. As they got closer they could see her smile.
She had made potato and mushroom soup with a lot of Thaga’s onions and a lot of Thaga’s good butter also. No one knows where Thaga gets butter, but she does!
“Mommy,” a small girl or boy will say, “what is that noise? It makes my ears buzz a little.”
And then, perhaps, Mommy will say, “I think it might be the wind vibrating fir branches, Honey.”
The wind, which is said to be prideful, is perfectly happy to be blamed for the intriguing deep sound.
When the sound ends, and all the expected noises in a forest resume, most of them let the strange deep resonance sink deeply into their memories. The picnics commence. Photos are taken. There is so much to admire, so much to just absorb.
Then, paradoxically, rested and tired, the happy visitors hop in their vehicles and leave the forest right before sunset. The peace of the forest will stay with them for days, maybe weeks.
There was a day when Ralph was sitting with his children, telling them stories, no doubt. That was his way of getting them up to speed with who they are. On that day, Cherry, who was getting to be a rather big girl of maybe five years, spoke to her father.
“Da’, a tree is dying.”
“Oh? How do you know, Cherry?” asked Ralph. “That is a serious matter.”
“I looked at the ends of the branches, Da’. There are no new buds, like all the other trees have. I went up there, and I looked,” Cherry said, earnestly. “Also, I couldn’t hear it.”
As he looked at the little blond creature leaning on his knee, Ralph knew that she had been up in the branches of some fir tree. She hadn’t forgotten how to do that, but he and Ramona had asked Cherry to please stay on the ground most of the time, at least when she was alone at play.
“You couldn’t hear the tree doing its song?” said Ralph.
“It didn’t sound like anything!” said Cherry. “It’s dying!” She wept a few little tears gazing up into his face. Ralph realized that this was a serious matter that required his immediate attention.
“Mona,” he said, “Cherry and I must go see about a tree. We will be back before night comes!” Ramona nodded as if to say, “of course.”
“Take me to this tree, Cherry,” said Ralph, standing up, preparing for a walk.
“Yes, Da’. It’s way past your big log!” answered his child.
With that, they set off together. Ralph walking, and Cherry more or less floating by his right elbow. They walked and floated past his famous log/office, where a lot of serious king business was conducted, and then deeper into the forest.
Great trunks gathered round. Dark, greenish, nearly black bark watched them as they went. You could say they sighed for the trees know their earthly king when he passes. Their arboreal souls were lifted up. It’s a mystery!
At last they came to a place where the path became very indistinct. A deep grove of ancient Douglas Firs stood there as if in waiting.
“This one, Da’,” Cherry said, drifting over to one particular trunk, old and massive.
Now, it is true that each tree had a light whispery song, if a person had ears to hear it.
Ralph came near this one and laid his head against the trunk, and reached his arms around it in a mighty embrace. He listened for a long few moments. He nodded to Cherry waiting beside himself.
“This one is tired, Cherry. Just very tired,” said Ralph at last. “Not dying.”
“Did she tell you why she is so tired?” said Cherry. She looked like a little blossom floating there in the dim light, waiting on his words.
“A forest spirit wept here, Cherry,” said Ralph. “She laid her head here,” he said, indicating a spot low on the great dark trunk. “She came here deep in sorrow, and as she lay here she drew strength from the tree. She lay here until her heart was light again and went her way.”
“Oh,” said Cherry.
“Help me, Cherry. I will sing to her, and we shall see what we shall see! Come and put your two hands on her trunk, here and here.”
So, Cherry put her two hands, here and here, and closed her eyes to listen.
Ralph sang that deep song. The same song the forest visitors hear sometimes and don’t understand. He sang for a long time, until the day changed and began to darken a little. He sang until the tired tree heard his singing and was healed.
“That’s enough, Cherry. We should go home now,” said Ralph. “Your dear mother will be looking for us.”
“We will visit this tree again. You’ll see. She will be fine and making good little buds too,” said Ralph, as they walked, and floated, back down the way to the Home Clearing.
Soon, they could see the fire glowing way down the path. Twigg and the puma brothers were there, and Ramona stood there watching Ralph and Cherry return. As they got closer they could see her smile.
She had made potato and mushroom soup with a lot of Thaga’s onions and a lot of Thaga’s good butter also. No one knows where Thaga gets butter, but she does!
💛
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