There used to be a fabulous Metasequoia Glyptostroboides at Rosemore, with its reddish bark twisting towards the sky. But they cut it down. I don’t know why.
My favourite tree is the Acer Griseum – there’s one in our front garden where I can watch it and admire it.
There’s something about trees. Secure in the ground, they are just there, growing imperceptibly but surely, a living and constant presence that puts human caprice to shame; beautiful in their variety and in their design, providing oxygen, food, and shelter.
Is that what the Tree of Life is like: reliably growing where it was planted; bearing the ultimate fruit that exceeds ambrosia, nectar and elixir, because it brings life in all its fulness.
Wasn’t there another tree too? A tree cut down, cut up, two pieces fixed together, to raise up the author of life?
“the Son of Man [was] lifted up, that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him.” John 3:14-15