Grandfather Tree and I have had many occasions in the past five years to sit down together and speak with each other. He has told me a little of his story; I have told him mine.
I wrote about how he began his life here on our property some time ago, and then saved and forgot about it, until Gray reminded me by telling me something he had heard about Grandfather.
There were many parallels I could not have known about... this is one example of how plants will "tell" us what we want or need to know. It was wonderful to me to be able to corroborate a 'feeling' or intuitive thought from Grandfather...and find it to be true.
I'm presently reading two of Stephen Harrod Buhner's books...The Lost Language of Plants and Sacred Plant Medicine. In both works, he has clearly shown how we have lost our ability to communicate with the Plant World; his words are a reminder to me that plants are Mother Earth's natural healers...and that they are fully sentient.
On a warm day last Summer, when the only cool spot for miles around is under Grandfather Tree, where a breeze always sings a song...I felt the urge to speak with him. He took me on a journey that seemed strange to me at the time.
I was riding in an old vehicle...a vintage car, where there were no springs and very little comfort. It was black in the interior and very warm. There seemed to be many children, also...from a young toddler to pre-teens, with us all riding in this jouncy, bouncy conveyance.
It seemed as if we were traveling very quickly. Yet, how could it feel so, when somehow I knew this old car would only be chugging along, at best? And I could not really see the children. I could hear them clearly, and felt a strong energy signature coming from each.
But where was I? And then I saw the wooden box, placed on top of leather luggage, almost as an afterthought. Every time there was a bounce in the car, the box would jolt, and a small layer of dirt would appear to trickle from the side of it. Inside the box, where I seemed to be, was a layer of baby trees...one of whom was Grandfather Tree.
This family was on holiday. There seemed to be much singing and laughter and tired tears. The trip seemed interminable. I wondered where we were coming from and where we were. I was given the answer...this family was from California. They traveled to Vancouver Island every year for summer holidays. I saw a small cabin as their destination...the forerunner to the home in which I now live.
I saw the older boy take the box of seedlings and place them in a corner of the yard, when we arrived. And then...I saw lightning strike a far more mature Grandfather Tree, three times. Sequoia's bark is very thick and fibrous, non-resinous and it is very resistant to Fire, but the heat from the Lightning strike did leave scars. They are apparent to an expert, but I did not know Grandfather had been struck three times, until I was told by an arborist.
With the Lightning, and the resultant feeling of extreme heat, I came out of my meditation and wondered at what I had seen. I wrote it down as a children's story, one I thought I would expand on for my grandchildren. But it faded into the background, with life's events taking precedence.
Grandfather Tree is not indigenous to this area. We did not know he was of the Sequoia genus until after we bought our home. But he is well known to the folks that have lived here for a long time...when I explain where I live, some residents ask about the big, tall Tree in the garden. Is he still alive and well?
And I tell them he is doing very well.
But Gray heard an explanation, a few days ago, of why we have a Sequoia growing, with great gusto, in the yard. He heard there was a lady from California who used to vacation here, many long years ago...and she planted quite a few Sequoias in the general area.
He brought the news home...
It took me a minute or two...and then the light bulb went on!
I had already written Grandfather Tree's story, when I thought it was just that...a happy, little tale to tell my grandchildren.
It was a reminder to me. A reminder to take my gift of communications with Animal and Plant beings seriously and with awe. A reminder to believe in myself.
And a reminder to believe in the stories I hear from Grandfather Tree.