#magic_pines

One afternoon, shortly after moving to grandmother’s vast land with my mother, I decided to take a walk and see the spot where my mother had once lived with my father. I was being sentimental as they were in the midst of a divorce. I walked and walked, unable to find the spot, but I found something truly mysterious instead. A pine forest. As I walked under the pine tree and into a clearing I realized I’d stepped into a circle of pine trees. Inside the circle I could hear the special song the pine trees sing when the wind blows through their boughs. Everything inside was still and the absence of noise was notable, All I could hear was the song of the pines. No birds, no crickets, no cattle in the distance. I got chills head to toe. I quietly hummed along with their song. The hair raised on my arms. I stood stock still, trying to name what it was I felt. I felt no evil nor anything that made me scared. Yet I could not deny the presence of something. It felt as though I was welcome, though not everyone would be. I felt as though I was recognized but couldn’t explain why. It was like stepping into a liminal space and if I wanted time would stand still for me. I stayed for a while then carried my cat back home. He refused to leave the place willingly. When I returned home I surprised by mother, she nearly jumped out of her socks. She thought I’d already returned from my walk. “I could’ve sworn I heard you humming.” But I’d been three quarters of a mile away. I suppose you never really know how liminal forests operate. Twenty years later while discussing plans to build my own home, my mother told me she and my father had the same plan and in preparation for the endeavor she planted a pine forest, with saplings just a foot tall that she’d started from seed, about 40 trees in all. She was so pleased to learn her babies had grown into strong trees. She had loved and cared for them. We think they must have recognized me as hers, and welcomed me home.