Trees and histories

Tree in Houwaart

Trees and fields in de little village of Houwaart (Vlaams-Brabant) in Belgium

After my camera broke down on my trip to Berlin, I knew I had to have a new one. It took me a few weeks to buy a camera, but since then I take it with me everywhere I go. Looking over the pictures I took in the last couple of weeks, I expected to see a lot of pictures of ‘the offspring’ or of buildings (I tend to take a ridiculous amount of pictures of buildings, especially of churches). Surprise, surprise, most of the pictures I took were actually of trees.

 

Tree in my backyard

Now this is the tree in my backyard, which as you can see looked magnificent three weeks ago. It now looks utterly dreadful alas.

 

Now, I do live in the countryside, so it’s not that I never get to see a tree and when I do get completely overwhelmed by the fact that I see a green leaf. Nature is, so to speak, all around. But trees tend to make me feel small. OK, that’s not a complete surprise either, I am small actually, but seriously, really small. And they make me feel young too! I grew up near a forest, but I can’t remember feeling like this as a child. And I’m usually not that sentimental (quite the contrary it seems to the utter disappointment of my family members; my husband frequently complains that I am as romantic as a broomstick. I disagree).

 

Tree at the abbey of Averbode

Once in a while I seem to combine my obsession with trees with that of religious buildings. Like here in Averbode.

 

Anyway, somewhere inside me there seems to be a treehugger (I love that word! We should all hug a tree more often, maybe we would actually save our forests if we did!) waiting to burst out. Now, I can hear you thinking, what has this got to do with histories??? No idea, I just liked the title this way. But I do promise to write something a bit more historical in the next couple of weeks.

 

The old oak at the village of Kaggevinne near Diest. This tree seriously looks as though not that long ago witches danced naked around its trunk.

The old oak at the village of Kaggevinne near Diest. This tree seriously looks as though not that long ago witches danced naked around its trunk.

 

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