The Deciduous Tree

In winter, deciduous trees can look so sad.

Sometimes they even look like they might be sick or dying.

They’ve lost all their leaves, revealing rotten or diseased branches that were hidden in the summer.

There doesn’t appear to be any new growth. No colour, no blooms.

And when we look around, the sky is grey; the weather is bleak and cold.

For some reason, the evergreen trees are still green. Some even flower right through autumn and winter.

But not the deciduous tree.

With the deciduous tree, we have to remember that there is incredibly important activity happening in winter that we don’t see. The tree is resting, conserving energy above ground, while storing nutrients and focusing on growing strong roots below ground. The cold of winter knocks back the parasitic insects and fungi on the exposed wood. The fallen leaves leaves provide mulch for other plants and allow sunlight to touch the earth that was shaded all summer.

As stewards of the deciduous tree, the best thing we can do is take the time to prune back anything diseased or damaged – without the leaves, we can now see clearly. We can clear the weeds from the base. We can wait. And enjoy it just the way it is. We can see the beauty in the naked tree, and remember that winter is a season. It will take its time and then make way for spring. Winter is as important and necessary as every other season. It is harsh, but beautiful in its own way.

Many a magnificent tree has been cut down in winter for having been perceived to be dead or dying, ugly, and/or unproductive during its dormancy. This is not a failing of the tree, but a lack of patience and of understanding by the gardener.

For a deciduous tree like myself it is really easy to feel shame and a sense of failure through my winters, in a society that desires beautiful blossoms year-round and values flowers and fruit above all else. We happen to live in an economic system that requires constant, visible, measurable, and exponential growth, with little interest in nuanced context such as seasons. Gardening has helped me to see the value in rest, even when my mind and body demand so much more of it than I would like. I am also trying to get better at letting go when my incredibly productive spring and summer seasons are coming to an end… but I still struggle with feelings of failure when I need to stop and take a decent break.

It’s now been two months since I wrapped up my ‘Late Bloomer’ exhibition, and I haven’t felt like painting at all since the initial ‘it’s a wrap!’ excitement wore off and was replaced with total exhaustion. But yesterday, I suddenly and inexplicably felt compelled to pick up a paintbrush and play with colour again. This morning I started a second canvas and my brush hand somehow just knew what it wanted to do! And this afternoon I feel brave enough to write again.

I hope you are all well and also choosing to rest when you need it. Some of us are evergreens and some of us are deciduous – there is a space in this world for all of us, and the gardener in me believes that we all need each other because of our differences.

Aroha nui,
Esther