Sitting quietly in the garden at home, enjoying the pleasurable warmth of an untypical English summers day, I cast my eye over the flowers and plants, admiring their beauty. However, this particular evening, I become a little unnerved, sensing that something isn’t quite right. My alcoholic beverage is still at a reasonable chilled level, so there isn’t any need to panic on that level, which is pleasing as no one should have to endure consuming boiled beer. No, it is something else, an eerie sense of calm that is quite disturbing.
Frantically surveying my garden and the rich quantity of plant life and vegetation, most lovingly cultivated, it finally dawns on me what the nature of the oddity is. All of the trees are perfectly still, not a rustle of the leaves, no tremble of the branches, just an unnatural calm. They are motionless as if frozen in time to preserve this quite spectacular moment of summer. Naturally, this occurrence strikes me as odd. Gazing across at the Emerald n Gold ‘Euonymus’ which has pride of place in the main planter situated on the patio, I see that it’s leaves and body are gently swaying to a hypnotic rhythm, like a shimmering exotic dancer. Yet, the tall and masterful trees that overlook my garden, sternly reminding us that they are the dominant inhabitant of this property, do not move. But, why is this so?
My initial thoughts lean towards the possibility of mystical intervention by unknown beings, who have opened an interdimensional portal that the trees are shielding. Subsequent thoughts question how many beers I have consumed and whether this is playing an active part in the phenomenon I am witnessing. Satisfied that ale induced visions are not the root cause, I fix my gaze on the static trees. What is causing them to be so still? Odd sensations begin to stir within in me as I question the reality I am existing in. What forces are present and why have the trees succumbed to their instruction? What is happening at this precise point in time? My brain begins to ache as I consider the various permutations, which result in endless dumfounded nonsense. I’m never going to find the answers to this conundrum, so I simply give up trying to reason with it.
Sitting patiently and at calm, I relax and feel the energy of the garden space. All is silent apart from the gentle rustle of tiny leaves. Then, as the wind quickens its pace, the mighty trees rustle joyfully, freed from their temporary malaise, reminding me and all of their majesty. I smile, content that normality has been restored and continue enjoying my beer. Yet, I know the question remains unanswered, what happens when the trees are still?