Many of us think of Mother Nature as part of ourselves. We know deep down, that we are one. And yet, when we find 'our' tree, we are often unprepared.

I had lived in my little house for half a year, and knew it was way time to purchase a guardian tree. I wanted a lilac. For some reason, the deep purple cones of sweet tasting buds always remind me of a happy childhood (plug a single bud and suck on it). Well, special bred lilacs (the ones with the BIG, unfilled, perfect flowers) are rare around here, so I took a trip to the largest tree nursery around. I was full of anticipation when I parked the car, I so love strolling through these beautiful gardens. Landscaped perfectly, its a wonderland, yet, you may purchase everything you see. Inhaling the multitude of fragrances deeply, I slowly walked through the lanes of baby trees, waiting for 'my' lilac to come into view. I softly touched this tree and that, aimlessly wandering about.

Fully aware of the importance of the moment (and quite full of myself, too), I had allowed all my guards to go down, and was open for the slightest message. Well, lets just say, the message came, allright. When I was all relaxed and suspecting nothing, this little tree JUMPED at me! Honest, I swear, it did!! Next thing I know is I'm sitting smack dab on my rump, in the dirt, hugging this treeling. Disgusting, Embarassing! (By that time, one of the employees had started giving me funny looks - the kind the jewelry store clerk gives someone they suspect is taking off with a rolex ANY second now). So I brushed myself off slightly unsteadily, found the last shred of my composure and assured the treeling I would be RIGHT back, just lemme pay for you and get the shovel, no problem. We’d be on our way home in no time.

He did not believe me and tried to snatch at my clothes to keep me close. I should have listened.

When I got to the register, I was told by a friendly but matter of fact cashier that the tree was already sold. What? MY tree? But.... that just would not DO.

I went back to little Lilac, dragging my feet, and bawling (back in the dirt and not caring one bit about who looked). After about half an hour or so of pure misery, one of the elderly ladies who cares for the trees slowly approached me. She only smiled and stayed close, and I knew I had found another loony who talks to trees. So I explained what had happened, and that I just HAD to have this lilac, he would not go with anybody else, and what could we do? With a little more prodding, she took me to the nursery owner, who informed me that little Lilac had been bought a few weeks ago as part of a landscaping contract. I begged her to call the man and change his mind. I said I would explain, do ANYthing. Offer him the next larger one (twice as expensive), I'd pay for it, but I HAD TO HAVE MY TREE!!!

The wheels set into motion, I promised Lilac all would be well, and went home. I was really not half as sure as I made him believe I was. Thoughts of tree-napping crossed my mind half the evening as I sat in my (EMPTY) yard and watched the sun go down (never mind that the lil succer came with wrapped roots heavy enough to flatten me out). Having nothing to loose, I prepared for my very first bigwig ritual. I’d never asked for anything before, but I felt I needed all the help I could get. So full of emotion I wasn’t capable of doing much more than allowing my longing and love for little Lilac to fill my every pore, and then explode into one giant burst of love, shooting out into the evening sky to become one with the universe. Chanting on and on: Mine, mine, mine.... and envisioning Lilac firmly planted by my back door (so I also did some screaming and pleading, but I won't tell...it was highly embarrassing, totally un-witchlike, and pretty much summed up into "GIMMEEEE" ).

Two angst-filled days later, the nursery called for me to pick up my tree :)

Right around the time of ritual, the man had apparently called back and said they would agree to make the switch (ending up with a heckupva bargain from a business point of view). As I went to pick Lilac up, my little car was FLYING down the interstate, and wouldn't you know, first thing that happened when I arrived at the nursery, I sat in the dirt again. Crying happy tears this time. It was quite a labor to get Lilac out of his hole and into the car (and back out and into my yard, later), but the drive home was pleasently short (surely defying physics and geometry - I did hardly notice time or the miles passing), with Lilac and Me both humming to ourselves happily.

By the time we reached home, it was raining heavily. Not that anything short of a hurricane would have deterred me from planting, but it was bad enough. Anybody ever tried to dig a hole half as deep as yourself in pouring rain?? Well, lets just say, the neighbors peaked out of their windows every so often to see if I was still kneeling in the mud puddles. It took about two hours for the hole to be deep enough, and I must have looked like Mother Nature herself by that time. I could 'hear' the neighbors' thoughts: 'Now she's sure gone off the deep end... planting in this downpour’.

I could not help it even if I had wanted to, because little Lilac was sitting in his travel case behind me, throwing a hissy fit complete with rustling leaves and all. My brain was rattling with thoughts of being hugged by smooth earth, and spreading my branches, errr, arms into the sky.... (I was becoming slightly confused by this time). My main train of thought seemed to be 'Hurry UP already, I want to spread my ROOOOOOTS' (giggle). Every time I thought about taking a break or postponing the planting, the little one gave me a headache :)

When I had the hole half filled again with good, rich, dark earth, and lowered Lilac into his new home, I swear I could hear him sigh. When I cut the burlap sack his roots where in, I could feel them expand under my hands (already, one year later, I have enough new shoots to start a whole lilac hedge). He was happy, ooohh, so happy. I tucked the fragrant earth around him, and just because, added a few small spring flowers around his base. Then a tiny white fence to encircle his home, so the grass would not grow into his roots. It was dark when I went inside to take a hot bath and crawl into bed, but I felt better then ever.

Not a day passed that summer where I have not spend at least a few minutes with my little guardian tree, touching, snuggling, watching. Within a few months all his branches reached slightly into the direction of my door, like open arms waiting for me to come out. By now, he has a little white sister, and a tiny blue brother. But he continues to be the pride of the yard, and grows faster then humanly, excuse me, treely, possible. Once a year I dig up all the shootlings, to expand the hedge towards the road. All his shootlings, even if it is just a small piece of root, take to the ground and develop leaves within a remarkable short time. They guard the house from the outside world, and also mark the boundary. They are comfort for my furry ones when their time comes, for they also are the gravestones to my lost four-footed friends.

In only a few years Lilac has doubled in size and is reaching for the roof. I can imagine, in just another short decade, a bright wall of flowering fence. And all these blessings stem from a short moment of opening up and allowing one little tree to enter my soul.....

© Sorceress SummerWind, 1999-2006