Oh fire it does intoxicate
while water does cleanse and purify
the sunset takes longer than in my travels to other lands
The sky becomes a darkened hue
amongst the stars I think of you
The trees surround me, hug me, close into the night
The night is full of cries from loons, rustling leaves and a crescent moon
And this is where I own this night
I write by the fire and one glow light
The lantern remains on the picnic table
I will write until sleep makes me unable.
I have wandered through the woods in many places, water and trees provide the solace I seek. I have been to the Redwood Forest and saw some of the oldest trees in the world. On Vancouver Island near the Strait of Georgia, the deep woods of Saskatchewan and up north in Peace River Country. In Hawaii and Jamaica I walked by the trees near the water and felt a deep spiritual connection to nature.
Trees are desirable as they provide shade and shelter or the perfect hiding spot when one desires to be alone. The trees at my childhood home surrounded me in my treehouse and it was there that I became interested in plants and herbs. Trees are made to last, they outlive us humans which means they are always there when you need them.
Searching for kindling earlier on that Saturday night, I remembered so many happy memories of collecting wood with my Grandmother when I was young. Her chopping wood to make a fire, her particular style of selecting the right pieces to start the fire with. Things were simpler then, times were different. You walked over to your neighbour’s farm and had coffee with them. A home was heated with wood in your fireplace. You made your own clothes, you had fresh milk, cream and eggs every morning. Community meant good people nearby with morals, ethics and common sense, people eager to lend a hand. Where are we now? Well, at least I have my memories and my trees.