When the Man of Galilee spoke of “The Tree of
Life” the metaphor was used advisedly. Is not a tree
the very essence of life unfolding hour by hour and
day by day—the harbinger of beauty on mountain
and plain, the salvation of the waste-places, the
antithesis of all monotony? The tender green of young
trees in the sunlight, the golden laughter of autumn
boughs, the loneliness of leafless trees against the
sunset sky, the mystery of solemn contours drenched
in moonlight, the cold, white loveliness of trees in
winter—what would earth be without these things? And
could the mind of man conceive a treeless heaven?
When the Great Love has stirred your soul and
you are one with the Tribe of Trees through the
blood-brotherhood of common understanding, you will
see a deal of this humanity of ours mirrored in the
multifarious tree-life of our western hills. Gird
yourself with an open mind, take Fancy with you
and go forth—learn of the old men, chat with the
gossips, question the seers, ponder the heraldry of
their ancient totems—do these things and you will
return with Wisdom, and Joy will dance in the heart
of you.