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.
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).
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.