Whispering Trees

When I moved to the old farmhouse I had already come up with a name for it; I called it Mill Creek Little Trees. The name came to me after thinking of all the little pine trees that grew freely on the property when I first saw it – abandoned, dilapidated, and covered in wild vines and overgrown trees and bushes. In just a few years, and by the time we moved in, they had grown very large and beautiful. I am glad we let them be. Not long ago I was walking outside, and a gentle breeze made its way through the trees. It caught my attention because it seemed as if the trees were whispering, as if nature was having a soft conversation. I felt at peace. It occurred to me that a better name would have been Whispering Pines. I have loved pine trees since I was a child, any type of pine tree. It is synonym of joy, at least for me.

I am convinced that nature’s purpose is to provide peace, joy, solace, and inspiration when humans need it most. It is balance to our lives, and we naturally gravitate to it. Even in the busiest cities, people find a way to commune with nature, whether it is by visiting a park, placing a few potted plants on a window sill, or enjoying the company of a pet. Nature is a stabilizer to our human chaos. It gives us life, literally. We are part of nature but we tend to feel separate from it, as observers. I’ve asked myself if that is just human perception because when I observe animals they seem to flow with the rest of nature, and at peace with it. Our species must harness, conquer, possess, and subdue, and for some reason, it doesn’t feel as a natural flow as with other species; it seems forceful in some way.

The theme of human redemption appears on my novels and I am considering a novel with a stronger approach to the duality of our human nature. Not so much about good vs evil but more about the ambivalence of our fragile/strong soul. I am not a hundred percent sure yet but it seems more likely the more I think about it. For now it is just an idea, a whispering thought.

The Kids and the Seagulls

Seagulls in Grand Marais

Seagulls in Grand Marais (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

If you have followed this blog, by now you know that I am an observer of life.  Sometimes, this is not so good as I tend to ponder if there is redemption for the human species.  Some behavior I don’t understand at times.  Over the weekend, my husband and I drove to a spot at the shore where we like to sit and watch the water, seagulls … and sometimes, we drink our coffee there too.  That day, they were just a few people walking along the shoreline – a woman collecting driftwood, a couple walking, and just a few people conversing sitting on a bench nearby.  The boats were sliding beautifully throughout the waters, and tons of seagulls were resting on the sand close to the water.  It was peaceful.  It was a beautiful sight.

Suddenly, I hear the cheerful noise of three kids heading towards the beach.  They were about 9-11 years old, at the most, possibly younger.  They appeared innocently cute, and I was enjoying the sight of their young energy and friendship.  They walked to the beach, and stood a couple of feet away from the seagulls, watching.  It would have made for the composition of a beautiful painting.  Out of the sudden, their behavior changed, and they started running towards the seagulls, startling them, and one of them even throwing rocks or shells at the birds.  And this is the part when I become puzzled, and my heart, that wants to believe that we deserve to be part of this planet, aches because once more, I see that we are a selfish and undeserving species, one that cannot appreciate beauty, and finds entertainment and contentment in destruction.

The kids ran at a distance and headed to climb some rocks, until they disappeared from my horizon.  There were no seagulls, they flew away, scattered, some into the ocean, others landed at a safe distance.  The beauty of the moment was ruined by the future of humanity, and I was left with an aching heart.