Monday 13 July
Yesterday’s post has had me thinking about trees quite a lot today. The relationship between trees and nature is well understood. A provider of food and shelter. A navigable network of routes to get from A to B to C to other tree. A nesting place, a resting place.
Our relationship with trees is more complex. I have always felt that on a one-to-one basis it is almost romantic, happy, bright. On it’s own a tree is reliable and supportive, an island of safety. Put a platform in it’s branches or hang a swing from it, and it becomes a playground. Children play, couples fall in love, weary walkers rest. We sing of tying yellow ribbons around them.
However, put a number of trees together, and the relationship changes. When we become outnumbered by them, they can become more mysterious, shadowy and sinister. Temperatures drop and darkness prevails; it gets cooler and darker the deeper you go. We talk negatively of going ‘deep’ into a woods or forest; deep water, deep space, deep winter all conjure thoughts of danger and threat, of the unknown.
A larger wood is something you can get lost in, you can become separated from your companions. Bad people live in the woods. Spirits that are out to trick you. A sound seemingly comes from all around you, it’s hard to determine from which direction. You become disorientated, confused, irrational.
Last year, after hearing a radio programme about the legend of the Green Children of Woolpit (a tale for another post), I went to visit the church there. The same programme talk of the Wild Wood Men of Suffolk. Tales told of strange, forest dwelling wild men, the Wodewose; naked, covered in hair and often depicted carrying a club.
These strange men would personify the spirit of the woods, and representations of them would often be sculpted on to or near to churches. Even godly people preferred to keep the Wodewose happy.
They were guardians whose role it was to protect the woods. They might also make judgements on those that passed through, providing safe passage for the righteous. As for the unrighteous, well I guess the trees themselves would decide their fate.
The Bald Birder 