Over the years I have come to know this Sycamore tree well. Sometimes it is my destination for a short walk and at others a resting place on a longer journey. I have approached it from all angles and know at which point on each path that I will first be able to see it. It is breathtakingly beautiful standing at the edge of the hillside, with the segmented agricultural land and distant hills lying beyond. In contrast to other trees in the area who’s branches reach eastwards, blown by westerly winds; it stands straight and strong, sheltered by the hilltop. I have visited throughout the seasons, in all kinds of weather, and never tire of being here. The Sycamore is one of several trees that I visit in this way, in the same area. My walk with the trees has become a meaningful, repetitive ritual that is both reassuringly familiar, yet always different.
For me this process of visiting, and revisiting places, and getting to know them more intimately over time is a vital part of life. A special bond is created, where the place (the tree) and its story becomes interwoven with our own story, not unlike the bonds we make with the special people in our lives. This creates, for me, a strongly felt sense of connection to a place that is important for my wellbeing. I have no doubt that I will visit the Sycamore Tree again soon, and simply cannot stay away for too long, without feeling a yen to be there.
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