• Sarah C LaBrie

When the Trees Whisper.

Updated: Nov 19, 2019


I remember as a child, growing up in the mountains of Northern Vermont, sitting outside listening to the trees. I knew from such a young age, the magic and wisdom that these great giants held within their solid and ever moving bodies. But do they really talk back? My short answer....yes. In many more magical ways then you've ever imagined! My first memories of listening to the trees, was around the age of 7 or 8 years old. I had a "secret spot" deep in the forest, far away from our house and any other domestic life.


It was a large flat stone, that sat atop the mountainous slope over looking the valley far below and the sister mountain across the river. There was no sound of streets or people, and no house or car in sight....just me and trees.


And I'd lay on this rock, opening my ears to the whispers of the wind blowing through the branches of each different tree. The creaking of branches, the rustling of leaves, and the jingle of pines, all began to sing a chorus around me...a chorus that flowed and moved so perfectly that I began to hear the words within the whisper of music.


And just as I lay there listening in to these ancient conversations, my presence was also acknowledged.


Have you ever heard a tree say your name? I have! And maybe because I was a child, I thought nothing much of it...for here I was, listening...I would have expected nothing less, than being spoken to. But to think of it as an adult, I know see the magick in those moments and the honour bestowed upon me to be blessed with such ancient and powerful whispers of Mother Nature.


Listening to the trees became my favourite thing to do. And in each season, they spoke and sang in different ways.


In the winter, as the snow would fall, you could hear the wet percussion of snowflakes hitting each music note of branch and leaf, creating a fairy tale orchestra that even though quiet, echoed through the near and deep forest.


But it wasn't until just a recent walk through a forest in North Yorkshire, England, that I began to remember this almost forgotten gift.


I was a misty spring day, and we ventured out into the wild for fresh air and an adventurous hike through the forest. Rain threatened the day but never seemed to break the confinement of the clouds and mist around us, but the wind began to blow widely, sending the towering giants into a dance. It sounded as if the trees had been asleep and the wind shook them from their stone presence as they creaked and groaned to life again. It was these creaks and groans that reminded me to listen...and the moment I stood still, in the shadows of the ancients....I heard the speak once again!


"Helloooo".... The creak of the tree send a thundering and crystal clear voice, my way. "Who is that?" It spoke again. If it were not for the booming volume and echoing height that this voice was coming from I would have thought a man was hiding in the trees speaking to us. The words so perfect and solid...unmistakable, this was no man.


A humbling and honoured presence swept through my body, and I knew...that it was no child's imagination, all those years ago, but that the trees really do speak...if you dare to listen!



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