What do the Trees Think

What do trees think, now, as another spring unfolds? Are they waking up to the sunshine on their branches or were they never slumbering at all? Maybe they have spent the winter communicating with the other trees beneath the earth or maybe they have listened to the voices on the wind. I imagine trees are experts at listening but who’s to say? 

Do the trees notice the comings and goings of humans in their world? Did they wonder what happened a year ago when things went quiet so suddenly and much of the traffic disappeared? Did they mark the date in their rings as we did in our memories? Did they take a deep breath in the silence or did they worry about what it might mean? Do they notice it is different this year and are they saddened by the noise and cars or relieved by the “normalcy” of it?

What do trees think as they owls begin to nest in their branches before the buds have even appeared? Do they welcome the intimacy of holding the nest and watch with delight as the curious fluff-balls come into the world? Do they notice as the birds of winter depart and the birds of summer return? Do they too keep an out for the orioles and the warblers and the deep blue indigo buntings? Would they notice if the same bird returned after a long absence, greet each other by name and catch up on what’s happened during the long separation of winter? Do they remember the young ones that spent their first days hopping about in their leaves?

And what of the bugs that eat their leaves and provide food for the birds they house? Are trees grateful for a reprieve in the winter or do they miss the tiny feet crawling about on their branches? Do they too love to watch the butterflies and months as they float on a gentle, warm, summer breeze? Do they perceive colors as we do or maybe they see thousands more shades and gradients than we could ever take in. 

What do the trees think from their stationary position, always seeing, seemingly anyway, from one point of view? I think they must notice every little thing. I think they must notice how the stars shift in positions through the seasons and the sunrise moves along the horizon, coming earlier and earlier now and then so soon later and later. I think they must notice how the rain feels different on their leaves today than in last week’s storm. I wonder if they notice as the earth warms and how they manage the warming against their bark. Is this what tells them it’s time to produce the shade of leaves? Do they do it solely for their own benefit?

I think trees must notice the migration of the birds, how the bird song in their branches shifts with the seasons. Do they notice how it has shifted over the course of their lives? Do they remember a song that disappeared decades ago and wonder where it has gone? Could they sing it for us now if we had ears to hear? Do they know about the warming climate and does it keep them awake at night wondering how they and their seedlings will fare in the centuries to come? 

Is the world view of the trees shaped by the stories brought with the migrating birds from South America, sharing stories with them of exotic plants they will never see themselves? Or do they know all of this through the vast network of roots that covers the land in ways we never see. Maybe they can already converse with faraway places maybe they even converse with the stars.

In the backyard of my family home there is a tree of the magnolia family, planted when I was young. The tree has grown huge, towering over the house with what I suspect is a glorious view of the sky above. Her trunk is too big for me to wrap my arms around now. How does she see the passing of time? Has she noticed as family members have departed, one by one? The furry ones, the kids that grew and moved away and came back with kids of their own? Did she feel the distress when my mother died? Does she converse with the tulip tree who has been there just as long and towers nearly as high from the front yard of the house? 

What do the trees think? I would love to find myself even for a day suddenly with the ears to hear the communication of the trees and understand what they say. To write down their stories and know their perspective. For now, I will just have to imagine.