Right outside the window of my home office stands a huge ficus tree. It’s trunk is so thick that it would take three, maybe four adults, to wrap their arms around it. So I have a room with a view of a tree. Until recently, it never occurred to me that the tree, likewise, has a view of me sitting at my desk.
It’s branches shoot up 50 feet or more and spread horizontally over the yard on that side of the house. Every year or so, the branches start hanging over the roof and that can allow insects access to the roof or create potential storm hazard. When Hurricane Wilma hit us a few years back, our roof was covered with huge ficus branches.
So recently it was time for me to get out the ladder and chain saw and cut back on some of those lower hanging branches. I leaned the ladder firmly against the tree, but it wobbled as I neared the top of it. I didn’t want to call Trish to hold it while I felled branches above her, so I climbed up into the large limbs and went to work.
After struggling with the chainsaw and finding it difficult to cut the smaller branches with it, I retreated and switched to a machete. Surprisingly, it was far more effective in cutting both small and medium-sized branches that the chain saw.
I cleared away the branches I’d cut and saw that I still had a few more to trim, but I ended up putting it off for a couple of weeks. So a few days ago, I raised the ladder again to tackle the task. But to my surprise I was unable to find the machete. I usually keep it wedged in one side of my workbench, but it was nowhere to be found.
I thought that possibly I’d left it in the tree or on the ground and it was buried in leaves. I checked the tree and raked the leaves. No machete. A couple of days passed in which I made several more fruitless searches. Finally, I walked out to the tree, looked around for the umpteenth time, then turned to the tree.
“Look,” I said, “I’m not trying to cut you down. All I want to do is trim your branches. So where’s the machete?” I stood there a moment longer, then turned toward the house and miraculously there it was! The blade, partially covered in leaves, was sticking out from behind an old windsurfer that lay against the house.
I picked it up and turned in astonishment to the tree. I really felt as if the big ficus had somehow communicated with me. “I’ll talk to you more often,” I said, and walked away, machete in hand.
Reminds me of “The Giving Tree” just a little bit, in its own unique way. What’s the tree’s name, did she tell you?
We have a purple African Violet, his name is Rodrigo. We almost lost him a few years back, before we were married. I trimmed him up and started talking to him all the time and he’s really bloomed. Is actually huge and has defied all odds!
The Giving Tree: one of my favorite kid books! Love that Rodrigo is doing well!
Funny, yesterday a young guy at work was telling me about the time he tried LSD and asked if I had ever tried it.I told him that I hadn’t,but one day maybe I will.
He said that I had to try it because it was so freaky that he was talking to weeds in his back yard…and they were talking back to him.
Then I remember Sting saying how the plants and trees were like brothers to him when he was on his Ayahuasca trip.
So Rob, is there something that you have left out of this story that you’re
not telling us ?-)
LOL. I don’t think you have to be high to talk to trees or hear voices – maybe just a little crazy.
ok, this beautiful TREE has totally stolen my heart! what a magnificent ficus and one with such spirit! love the machete hiding! and obviously, TREE just wanted a bit of attention, rob! verbal attention! 😉
i’ve always had indoor ficus trees – am down to only one now and it is about 25 years old – a beautiful faithful friend who asks only for a little TLC, a home near a window, soft music and someone to talk to when she’s lonesome! i’ve always always also talked to plants – since childhood – and find just the act itself comforting to me and my plants always seem to “respond” somehow –
wonderful story! love love love TREE! it isn’t often that i’ve seen such large ficus and what a thrill!
Great story! So wonderful to hear you write about being in touch with the elemental world……I’ve met quite a few trees myself that seem to have a lot to say!
Someone I know always talks to the plants in his garden and asks their permission when he wants to prune or trim any branches, or even to deadhead the flowers. Not sure he hears the replies, it’s more of a ‘feeling’ but his garden is magnificent.
What a wonderful, insightful story, Rob! Oh, yes! There is no doubt in my mind that plants and trees speak to us in a language of their own, and if we listen closely and pay attention, we can comprehend whatever they are telling us. As we’ve discussed in previous posts, I talk to my plants, and they definitely respond. Whenever I must cut them back or trim them for any reason, I explain to them WHY it’s necessary, and that I’m not trying to hurt them, that the trimming will make them healthier and even more beautiful. They are deeply lush and green, and react to music in ways that are obvious. Just as they turn to the Light, they also turn to the source of music, but interestingly, no plants thrive in our living room. I’m sure that’s because hubby is partially deaf, has the big-screen TV on high volume, and enjoys loud football games and Nascar racing and other such sporting events that are harsh on human ears. I’ve come to the conclusion that plants react similarly to humans in that regard. They don’t tolerate loud, raucous, offensive noises. I bet next time you trim your ficus, you’ll talk to it first, huh! Pan and The Little Nature Folk who care for it must have hidden the machete from view until you explained to the tree! 🙂 Speaking of these types of things, when our oldest son’s family moved away a few months ago, he left his tuxedo cat, Thoth, with us. Thoth is a BIG cat….REALLY big….and he doesn’t like dogs. He is an indoor/outdoor feline and rules the neighborhood. Oddly enough, he and Sunshine, (my canine), became immediate buddies. They touch noses, Thoth rubs all over her legs as cats are prone to do, purring. Sunshine wags her tail and licks him. This is so odd, because Thoth is well-known to absolutely be a terror to the other dogs around us. Animals are weird. These two must know each other from Somewhere, because they so instantly became attached. Neither of them even gets upset if the other touches his or her food bowl. Strange. Like trees and plants, animals must surely think and reason.