Below today's essay, there are some reviews of the magazine. You would be wise to check it out. Now please read my experience with a tree that was both difficult to define and divine to experience.
An Invitation to an Intimate Experience... with a Tree
I was there merely to take photos and sit. I didn’t realize I would be a witness to this, her final bloom season. This would be the final time this particular almond tree blossomed into all her glory for the other trees up and down the neat rows of almond trees to see.
It’s a short bloom season but one which makes Bakersfield photographers – professional and amateur alike – sing with joy. Maybe “shoot with joy” is a better term, but for me it is definitely singing. Stepping into a blooming almond orchard is truly akin to stepping into heaven.
It is a separate from the outside world, nearly silent place dappled with darkness and light. The scent is heady, a sort of fragrant lusty sweetness that doesn’t hold language very well in its aroma. I brought my notebook. I brought a camera. I brought some books to read.
My open heart and observant spirit are simply who I am.
This is why I shouldn’t be surprised by the incredibly bittersweet sight of a downed tree, still stubbornly blossoming, still declaring the can bear fruit, even if only her roots are still attached to the ground, refusing to detach from her mother, Earth.
I did something I have done with other trees “in the wild” as in not in my backyard. I got on my back and pushed myself into her depths, face up. It looks sort of like my brothers used to look when they rolled underneath the cars they were working on.
Never in my life have I expected to see a fallen tree. I have, in past years, seen entire orchards raised by farmers. They were seen as orchards past their prime, trees no longer yielding a high quality crop. It was time for the land to lie fallow before planting a brand new crop of trees.
I’m nearing menopause these days and sometimes worry that if I were an almond or a peach or a cherry or a plum tree, I would be raised. This tree, though, she was still in her prime years.
I have no idea how she fell. She was in the middle of the orchard, close to its heartbeat. It was quite a distance from the busy road. Wind was unlikely to come whipping through the middle of the orchard. It might hug the orchard, but not push through to slay only one tree in the middle.
What I did know was this tree offered herself to me.
She gave me her blooms, she invited me to become intimate with her and experience her in a way I doubt any other people would experience her. I breathed in her scent, I cried with her. I scribbled some near unintelligible words onto the page, praying I would somehow be able to translate for her later.
The time has yet to come. It may or it may not. I will, however, forever have this unnameable experience, covered in newborn blossoms, a quilt offered to me by a dying almond tree.
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"I think this magazine will be one of the best gifts 2011 has given humanity and I’m absolutely serious about this. I hope you will check it out. When I did that, I clicked immediately on the subscription button and signed myself up. Now for those of you who know me, you will know this is significant because I have a very strict rule about not purchasing anything over the internet." —Tammi Hartung, author of Homegrown Herbs
“. . . I realized that this was a periodical loathe to box itself in or stoop to cliché. The topics would be familiar but the twists and turns would be unique because the human experience is unique."—Grace Peterson, "Gardening with Grace" blog
"Greenwoman is a fresh and hip magazine bringing the spirit of gardening to the forefront . . . It is unlike any other magazine I have read."—Elise Bowan
“Greenwoman filled the gap in my life that I didn't know existed: a magazine that connected all my interests: the earth, gardening, and a feminine perspective. I couldn't believe my luck upon discovering it! Greenwoman will now replace some of my subscriptions that were only gardening, that ignored earth issues...Viva Greenwoman. —Elisabeth Kinsey, Greenwoman's Sex in the Garden columnist.