Angel Oak
Driving along Bohicket Road, the two-lane stretch of highway connecting Charleston, South Carolina (where I lived for 14 years) to John’s Island and the resort beaches of Kiawah and Seabrook, you pass by horse farms and fruit stands and creeks that disappear into the Atlantic. If you’re not careful, you’ll pass right by one of the oldest living organisms east of the Mississippi, the 1,500-year-old Angel Oak tree.
A simple sign directs you down a dark, heavily wooded dirt road. Just as you begin to worry that the sign was a hoax and that your car will soon be swallowed up by the steamy Southern air, she appears.
Stretching high into the sky, the thick, twisted branches of the Angel Oak tree offer a mossy, shady embrace that measures 180 feet at its widest point. Standing beneath this majestic being, you realize how small you are and how young.
Trees have meant a lot to me in my life. Almost every novel I write has a tree as a touchstone for the main character. Today I live in the Blue Ridge Mountains just outside a National Forest, so I have plenty of trees to inspire me.
What about you? Do you have a favorite tree from childhood or from another time? If so, I’d love to hear from you.
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P.S. I am an ex-shrink who writes novels. Most of them have trees in them. Check out my books here.
One of our wonderful email subscribers weighs in:
“Susan, I love trees. I climbed many trees as a kid – one of my earliest memories is of jumping out of a tree and breaking my ankle.
There was a huge oak in the yard of my boyhood home. Under my Dad’s watchful eye, I spent many fall Saturdays raking its leaves. – J.W.”
Here are responses from where I posted it on facebook:
“When my mother informed me of the facts of life as depicted in a brochure: ‘You’re a Woman Now’, I ran out of the house and climbed an apple tree. Trying to outrun my uterus, I suppose. I’m sure that apple tree is long gone but I remember it with great fondness as the tree who willingly received my incredulity.” M.B.
“Oaks are the best–even better than the sequoia, though they are older. The beauty in the oak is its size and age and gnarliness. The older they get the more conscious they become. Mine speak to me already; someday they’ll do so in English!” e.roberts
“Oh, but the weeping willow … Need I say more , yes. ; ) It’s wispy branches blowing in a warm summer breeze It’s barely leaves , green then gone ! There truly is a difference between , crying and … weeping ! Mmmmm” J.P.
And yet another from one of our lovely email subscribers:
“Hi Susan—From childhood I remember a perfect cherry tree in my backyard that my friends and me used to climb and sit on the branches and talk, and talk and talk some more. The cherries also were found in some luscious pies my mom used to bake. Sweet memories, for sure. Mary”
Here’s a comment from the Fiction Writers Guild group on Linked-in. I love this story:
“I loved visiting the Angel Oak when my family lived in SC. Another important tree was the tattle-tale tree. My mother got tired of me and my sisters complaining to her about each other, so she made a large, cardboard ear and nailed it to a tree in the backyard. If we kids had to tell on each other, we could tell it to the tree. It wasn’t long before all the kids in the neighborhood were lined up in our backyard to whisper grievances to the tattle-tale tree. ” – S.P.J.
Here’s another great story (This blog has wonderful readers!)
“I also love the Angel Oak. Having lived on James Island and worked on John’s Island and, thanks to Hurricane Hugo, I also lived at Seabrook. The tree is breath-taking and enchanting. I believe a writer could sit beneath that tree and “hear” old stories as they leak from its gnarly branches.
During the spring, summer, and fall as a 10 yr. old I lived in Pennsylvania, about 75 north of Philadelphia, I’d ride my bicycle about 6 miles into farm country. I’d often passed a pasture with brown and white cows mooing and chewing underneath the shade of a mammoth chestnut tree and one day decided to take my book and climb the fence and sit beneath it. That was the only time I sat beneath it. My “three or four times a week” trips to this quiet place landed me in the crook of three fat branches where I could stretch out and read, inhale the fragrance of cut grass, watch clouds form angels, and find peace in my dysfunctional life.
The arms of those branches were strong like the arms of God. They held me close and it was my only secure place on earth. Until I met my husband, I’ve never had anyone or anything that made me feel the total safety of that tree’s arms: Mother Nature nurturing one of her own.
Nancy Purcell”
From me: Check out Nancy’s website at: https://www.nancypurcellauthor.com/
Lots of lovers of trees around. I love hearing these stories. Here are some comments from care2.com:
“I grew up in the suburbs of the Midwest, but live in NYC now. I so miss the days of tramping around in the woods rerouting creeks, jumping off tree limbs into natural ponds, and swinging on the tire swing at my friend’s house. I used to love birches as a child because of their smooth, white trunks.” – Jennifer G.
“I love Redwoods, Sequoias and Oaks! But all trees are cool in my book.” -Roseann D.
More from our lovely email subscribers:
“I also love trees. My all time favorite is the huge Moreton Bay Fig tree next to the old train station in Santa Barbara. I hope you have seen it. I haven’t been back to Santa Barbara in years, but I think it has a spread of over 185 feet. If you google it there are several good photos and a brief history at Wikipedia.
I also love the redwoods. Over forty years ago I took a walk with someone I loved through the redwoods off the Highway of the Giants. It was so beautiful and so primeval, and I will always remember it.
I’m a retired attorney, not a writer like you, so thank you for the lovely description that evoked such wonderful memories.”
And another one. I love these!
“Hi Susan.
I am always pleased to talk about trees and plants and the like. As Horses are my favourite animals, followed very closely by dogs, cows and then cats, trees are without doubt, my favourite beings, running a nose ahead of humans. I have communicated with trees, and other plants for that matter, since I was a small child, and once, when I told my father that trees could talk, he asked, “do they talk to you ?” I said yes, and, after a pause, he said that I must be a very special person, because they don’t talk to everyone. Now, as an adult, I realise that part of his concern may have been that his “little girl” was showing the first signs of schizophrenia, but he handled it well. It has been proven that the plant kingdom does, in fact communicate with both their species and with ours.
All this is to say that, yes, in my travels, if I manage to stay anyplace for more than a week, I will find trees to talk to and one always seems to appeal to me more than the others, and I will regularly sit, under it, or close by, or even, in a few cases, sit in it, be it on a low branch or a hollow in its’ trunk. Seeing the giant Redwoods for the first time, brought me to tears. Trees and the plant kingdom are vital to our existence, and it pains me to see all the de-forestation that’s going on around the world. There should be a world wide “Hug a Tree Day”, instituted. That’s how I feel about trees. Cheers…..”