Trees, I believe, are
smarter than humans. They are more grounded, obviously, but they also have an
advanced sense of life, a more mature understanding of what it is all about.
Humans see life as
individual time frames with beginnings and ends. Trees see life as infinite –
forever possible through change and renewal.
As autumn tiptoes across our
landscapes, and trees shed their summer clothing, we humans feel a sense of
sadness. The sun weakens, shadows lengthen, vegetation begins to die. We have a
feeling of good things having ended.
Summer, with its sun, fun
and freedoms, has gone and left us sadly anticipating the bleakness of winter, which
can be restrictive, confining and at times downright cruel. It is a time of
change and change is something that most of us dislike and struggle against.
Trees, however, see autumn more
positively. Autumn is an interregnum, a pause allowing time to prepare for
changes needed for the continuation of life. Trees have an important role in
the preparations.
Trees are diligent gardeners
tending their close-at-hand plots with varying methods of cultivating and
seeding. Muscular oaks hurl down acorns containing precious embryos for new
life, while the gloriously-crowned maples helicopter their seed pods to the
surrounding soil.
Seeds delivered, trees then
float millions of dying leaves to the ground where they decay and create rich
nutrients that soil needs for growth.
There is no immediate or
apparent result from the trees’ autumn work. Many months must pass before the
first indications of new life will appear.
But unlike we antsy humans, trees
are patient and long suffering. They stand naked in the freezing winter winds, firm
in their faith that the natural forces guiding all earth events will bring back
longer hours of sun and warmth.
It’s not that humans don’t
enjoy and appreciate autumn. The cool air it brings to replace oppressive heat
and humidity is much welcome. So are the autumn days and evenings without
stinging bugs and flies. Outside activities are fewer perhaps, but fewer active
people around also means more serenity.
However, our appreciation of
autumn is not deep enough. It is too self-centred. It lacks an understanding of
the season’s important connection to other seasons and the continuation of life
through millennia, not just years.
Trees demonstrate that
understanding each September. We would do well to try to build a better
understanding of autumn every time the trees begin to drop their seeds and shed
their brilliant leaves.
It is not outrageous to say
that trees can provide us with some wisdom and better understanding.
However, each year there are
fewer trees to look to for their wisdom. The most recent assessments show that
the world’s forest area decreased from 31.6 per cent of global land area to
30.6 per cent during the 25-year period 1990 to 2015. It is estimated that
trees once covered 50 per cent of earth’s land mass.
The pace of loss has been
slowing in recent years thanks to increased awareness of trees and their
importance to all life. That’s really great news.
The not-so-good news is that
much forest reduction is the result of clearing land to house and feed a
growing human population. The current world population is roughly 7.6 billion
and is expected to swell to 10 billion people in the next 30 years.
Studies estimate that
population growth by 2050 will force the global demand for food to grow by 50
per cent. More mouths to feed means more land for planting, which means more
trees have to be cut.
There are other concerns,
notably fires, especially in the Amazon which is home to the world’s largest
and most important tropical forest. Then there is climate change and how it
might affect the land. And, of course anti-conservation politicians who seem
determined to wipe out the conservation gains of recent decades, all in the
name of progress.
Just looking at trees,
especially in autumn, offers some understanding, and hope for the future. Trees
have been here helping to perpetruate life for 360 million years without
negatively altering the planet.
Humans, in our modern form,
have been here a mere 200,000 years, generally wreaking havoc. The trees must
know something that we don’t know.
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