The Weeping Willow Shelters Those in Need.

An ancient shelter taking in weary travelers hiding from the rain, sleepy lovers resting after a picnic and a passionate bonding. Children playing games by hiding from one another and those looking for somewhere quiet and private to contemplate. The Willow tree has had many guests under neath her welcoming arms. Including your humble author. As an unpopular, serious minded kid I found the willow as a great hiding place from the torment of the popular crowd--you know, "The Chosen Ones." She never asked questions and just gave me a serene sanctuary to read within.

Surrounded by living walls I always felt (and still do) a stable yet comforting energy that gives her space a feeling of a rest stop for pilgrims along the journey of life. She is a good listener as she is always to some degree mourning for the loss of all dying green, growing life as evidenced by her sagging limbs. When tears rain down upon red, angry cheeks she sways her arms and emits a hushing noise as if to console the distraught looking for a place to let it all out in private.

All secrets are safe within her core for she is understands the pain of betrayal from double talking humans killing tree groves they previously honored. She would never hurt others as was done to her. She just doesn't have that within her nature -- she welcomes all without question. She is the mother of all that grows and I honor her this day. May she and her offspring grow forever upon this green planet.

-++The Green Man has Spoken++-

Sacred Groves.

Trees are the great repositories of time, guardians of animals and walls to house sacred spaces. They are natural sanctuaries, which block out much of the wind and cold of the open lands. Trees reach into the heavens as if to remind us of the greater universe that we are apart of. They are wonderful examples of patience and going with the flow of nature and life rather than against it--They bend but rarely break. The quietude that they provide obviously makes them ideal for spiritual and secular contemplation. They speak in hushed, rustling of leaves to scatter their secrets to the four corners of Earth. It is the sound of air being cleansed for the trees are the lungs of this miraculous, blue, planet. And seeing how our first ancestors lived in trees, Is it any wonder that we like to climb trees as children?I climbed a lot of trees as a kid and found them to be the closest things to floating in air as I sat amongst the blue skies and swayed about in the wind. I would put my books in a small canvas ball, hang it around my neck and ascend into the leafy heights of our giant cottonwoods that were anchored in our backyard. The trees branches always held me strong and tight as I lost myself in the pages of my books. They cradled me and inspired lofty day dreams, which were carried into the heaves with the breeze.Now those big cottonwoods are dying -- they are rotting from the inside out. They have to be cut down or my parents risk them falling on the house. Yet even in death those trees gives one last gift -- wood to carry warmth through out the long, cold, Colorado winters. Nature can be rough and the falling of a great tree is a thing to mourn yet it teaches us that even the big, giants of this world must die. However, even with the most violent crash to the ground of a forest god, new life will be given a chance to reach for the sun to fill the hole left behind. Just like the picture above with the new growth growing on the fallen tree. It's the beautiful, cruel yet fair and eternal cycle of life.

TOP PHOTO CREDIT: Druids in a sacred grove by Nocturntable

MIDDLE PHOTO CREDIT: Reading up in a tree

BOTTOM PHOTO CREDIT: Fallen giant