There is a tree growing outside our dining room window that I dearly love. It is a rowan tree (also known as mountain-ash, though it is not an actual ash tree) of the American variety.
I took this photo on the first of December. That weekend, as Sean and I sat at breakfast, two pairs of cardinals visited the tree, eating berries and hanging out. It was really great.
Rowan trees have a lot of rich history and folklore. For example:
- Different types of rowans are native throughout cool temperate regions of the Northern Hemisphere, from Canada to Tibet and beyond.
- Many cultures have seen the rowan as a protective tree, keeping travellers from losing their way.
- People once planted rowan trees to ward off witchcraft and enchantments, but funnily enough, druids also used the bark and berries to dye their garments black for lunar ceremonies.
- The wood is hard and resilient, and is traditional for walking sticks, tool handles, and runes.
- The berries, though bitter to humans (and hard on the kidneys if eaten raw in quantity), can help treat scurvy, hoarseness, and constipation.
- The European rowan has more than one legend associated with it (including rescuing Thor from a river!).
- Each little calyx is a five-pointed star. See?
These are cool things to know, but I have my own reasons for feeling comforted by its presence. As mentioned, it makes us super-popular with the birds, especially on years when the berries stay past snowfall. I love that this tree helps them get through the winter – somehow it makes me feel safe.
It’s also beautiful watching this tree go through the phases of the year. I have been meaning for years to take regular photos chronicling its journey through first spring leaves and flowers to berries, and the continuum from green berries to red. It just… makes time make sense, somehow.
Can you think of anything more wonderful than a tree?
Honestly, I can’t fully describe the way I feel about trees. They make me downright swoony sometimes, with their strength and resilience and beauty. And how much they give the world. Yes, I have literally hugged quite a few. And spent many hours of life just looking up at miraculous branches and leaves and their incredible details.
The first spring I lived in Toronto, I found myself thirsty for leafiness. I walked around my neighbourhood, in love with trees. Even weirdly-pruned, severely ornamental, and tidily urban trees. Their amazing variety and grace just blew my mind after a long winter of sidewalks and subway trains.
I think this is why I love having a real tree in our house at Christmas. The fragrance makes me almost giddy. Watering it is a sacred task to me, particularly since the year Sebastian died, when our Christmas tree somehow leafed.
Tonight, winter begins. On this long Solstice night, I am so thankful for the bare filigree of trees at rest, and the generous shelter of the evergreens. May you all have chances to commune with trees.
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