November is here, the month of All Souls.
As a little child from a Catholic tradition, I was told you could spring tortured spirits from the in-between-ether of Purgatory , by saying a handful of the right prayers and running out of the church to seal the deal. And there were always those of us who would run straight back in in an attempt to reclaim more of the dead for eternal life with a few muttered charms, again and again until it was teatime and we were ushered home, triumphantly comparing the numbers of rescued dead each of us had managed to redeem.
As if by magic, here in the Shires, the mist has descended on November 1. The land is sometimes in clear glittering Autumn sunlight and sometimes swathed in a really rather alluring gauzy haze, like the veil on a woman with kohled eyes glimpsed across a streetmarket dimly.
Tonight at dusk the forest was like her: hidden behind the failing light and a gossamer sleep-shroud, impossibly beautiful in her flame-red and yellow Autumn leaves, still at her centre, standing ancient on a different scale of time entirely from ours.
It was the perfect time to visit a tree which has recently suffered a cataclysm: a whole spur of her trunk, a great tall limb, has come rotten away, and some time when man was mercifully nowhere close, this colossal piece of beech crashed to the floor and began, slowly, to die.
Now the living faces the recently dead. The main beech tree must watch its limb slowly fade away, its vitality seep into the earth around, the beetles disintegrate and disperse it. No one has come to saw up logs and take its dead arm away, though it blocks the footpath. Only time, it seems , will claim the dead tree for eternity.
Do you know how long a beech tree takes to die? I watched a neighbouring tree when it was felled in storm and was horrified, long after we had begun collecting it as firewood, to see it sprout new buds and leaves to meet the coming Spring in hopeless anticipation. It must have taken, at my estimation, between a year and 18 months to finally stop the signs that it was clinging, stubborn, to the world of the living.
But my horror faded when I realised that trees live on a different timescale to ours. This one must be at least 200 years old. It was probably born in the same time that the Duke Of Wellington achieved a decisive victory at Waterloo, and has existed outside our constructs and events and little busy lives for two centuries.
The tree-that-lost-a- limb has shed its dead weight. Who knows how long the new, lighter beech tree will inhabit its forest. It cannot be pleasant being forced to keep the dead limb within one’s regard: but all time passes eventually, at whatever speed it is travelling.
For you who may have lost a tree-limb and are standing there, regarding it with seemingly bottomless loss: strength to you, Friend, as time passes.
Kate Shrewsday 
I never knew about the running in and out to save souls. And we were STRICT Catholics.. Dammit. That sounds like fun! Beautiful tree. c
Almost like astral train spotting, Celi 😀 Hope all is well on the farmy x
Stunning images Kate – both in your photos and your words.
Thanks Tammy. The forest was just captivating tonight. Have been following your adventures — a very busy time indeed!
I am in love with your language, 🙂 Makes me happy.
😀 Glad it makes you happy, michsel: I had to read this out loud to Maddie to check it wasn’t maudlin. I love all the business surrounding All Souls and All Saints. A real gateway to the dark months of the year here.
Lovely forest images. I trust you tell the kids and dogs to respect their elders when among them?
Ha! And then the Church chides those who follow strange superstitions!
Looking at it from another angle, the tree should be regarding that limb with delight, knowing that it is not only going to provide a haven and food source to numerous creatures for some time to come, but also that ultimately their whole interaction will create something to go back into the soil which renovates it. Thus it, and/or its saplings, will benefit from the sacrifice. Makes one think of constructing more fables, doesn’t it?
It does, Col, I love your angle. All part of the same reality. Hope you and yours are all well 🙂
So very atmospheric, Kate. Lovely photos. As to the lost limb; sigh. I always mourn these occurrences, but, know they make way for other living things. We had the most dramatic hoar frost Friday morning. If I hadn’t been running behind schedule, I would have stopped and gotten some photos. Ah well, my imagination is still working . . . 🙂
Hi Penny, I love a good hoar frost. I’m looking forward to a rich winter’s worth of photographs from the Cutoff 🙂
Gorgeous writing and photography. I love that I can now see and hear the place in my head.
I saw a pretty significant dead limb a couple of weeks ago. I never thought I’d have to look twice and ask myself if I was seeing the dead limb I missed for so long. But there I was. In a public place. The limb so far dead I almost didn’t recognize it. Different circumstances for your dead limb. Still too much life in it, coupled with too much proximity.
Here’s to the healing power of the upcoming week and the start of your next adventure. I can’t wait to hear about it. xo
Oh Andra, indeed: hard to gaze on a limb like that. My heart just swelled in solidarity with you just reading that comment. Here’s to healing power indeed. Time passes, things change, and we look at what we have as living creatures and mark our place in this great scheme of things. I think of you and Michael, twin trees in the forest almost intertwined, as some of the great fixed points in a changing universe. Love to you both and we’ll catch up very shorty. I have much to tell you.
I remember you dragging home large tree limbs from the forest for firewood . . . that one might be a bit too much for you to handle.
Unless you harnessed the dogs to it and encouraged them to Heave Ho . . .
Then you’d be all set with wood for Guy Fawkes Day/Night.
Ah, Nancy, the wood will be wonderful for burning but like everything in the forest it takes time to become ready….six months at least to season. Still, there are other fallen trees. Off to design a doggy-sled.
Oh, Kate. So gorgeous.
🙂 Thank you Cameron.
Beautiful on so mat levels. Thank you for sharing your words and images with the world.
Hi Lisa! Thanks for reading this today. The forest was full of lessons and stunning colours, I couldn’t write them all down if I tried!
I always love to see how you’ll construct your thoughts. So lovely.
Hi Barb 🙂 Thank you. A wistful one for All Souls. Better find my funny bone for the next one I think!
lovely writing and always sad to lose a limb 😦
Beautiful images, Kate. The forest is so alive–breathtaking!
Trees. They have it figured out. No noise and disruption, but living and letting go knowing nothing goes to waste. Treemendous post
Beautiful post, Kate. 😊
Such power to save tortured souls as a child. The torment of stopping too soon. And now the pope has done away with Purgatory!