The Soul of Little Lilac

Many of us think of Mother Nature as part of ourselves. We know deep down, that we are one. We speak to trees, and believe it is perfectly normal to receive an answer. And yet, when we find 'our' tree, we are often unprepared. I know I was . . .

I had lived in my little house for about half a year, and knew it was past time to purchase a guardian tree. I wanted a lilac, Granny's favorite, and for some reason the deep purple cones of sweet tasting buds always remind me of a happy childhood (pluck a single bud, close your eyes, and suck the nectar out of it). Well, special bred lilacs (the ones with the big, unfilled, perfect flowers) are rare around here, so I undertook a road trip to the largest tree nursery around. I was full of anticipation when I parked the car, as I so love to stroll through their beautiful gardens. Landscaped perfectly it's a wonderland, yet you may buy everything you see (although I have often wondered who would dig out and haul the giant oak had anybody asked for it). Deeply inhaling the multitude of fragrances, I slowly walked through the lanes of baby trees, waiting for 'my' lilac to come into view. I softly touched this tree and that, aimlessly wandering about.

Fully aware of the importance of the moment (and quite full of myself, too, thank you very much), I had allowed all my guards to go down, and was open for the slightest message. Well, let's just say, the message came, all right. When I was all relaxed and suspecting nothing, one of the trees JUMPED me! Honest, I swear it did!! I had the impression of being knocked over by soft leaves, and next thing I knew I was sitting smack dab on my fanny, in the dirt, arms full of branches, bawling like there was no tomorrow! I think it was right around that time that the employees started to give me funny looks. Slowly resurfacing, I assured the sapling that I would be RIGHT back, 'just let pay for you and get the shovel, no problem'. He did not believe me, and his branches defiantly snatched in my hair and sweater when I rose to my feet.
I should have listened.

When I got to the register, I was told the tree was already sold. What? MY tree? SOLD? The dawning of this particular reality was a bit slow in settling. When it did, I dragged my feet back to little Lilac, bawling in earnest this time. After about half an hour or so, one of the elderly ladies who cares for them silently sidled up to me. She only smiled, calmly observing the two of us, slightly disheveled and dirty, and I knew I had found another 'loonie' who talks to trees. I explained what had happened, (hickup-ing), and that I just HAD to have Lilac, he would not go with anybody else, and what could we doooo? (fresh opening of tear duct at this point)

After a little more sniffling, she took me to the owner who informed me that little Lilac has been bought a few weeks ago as part of a landscaping contract. I begged her to call the man in charge and change his mind. I would go see him, explain, do ANYthing. Offer him the next larger tree (twice as expensive), I'd pay for it, but I HAD TO HAVE MY TREE!!!

The wheels set into motion, I resolutely (and quite desperately) promised Lilac all would be well, and went home. I was really not half as sure as I made him believe, but determination had set in (and Scorpios have the one track mind of a terrier who's asked to hand over a favorite bone). Thoughts of tree-napping briefly crossed my mind as I sat on the steps to my (empty) yard, sipping burgundy wine, watching the sun go down - sipping some more wine - and never mind that the little sucker came with wrapped roots heavy enough to flatten me and I could have never managed to move him single-handedly). But after all was thought (and sipped), I decided I wanted this to go the right way, and Momma had to have a reason why she chose to make this a lesson.

Having nothing to loose, I prepared for my very first ritual. I never asked for anything before, feeling inadequate and unprepared, but now I needed all the help I could get. I could not think of much more than lighting my candle, filling the room with heavy incense and music - sipping some more wine - and hoping for the best. As I allowed my longing and love for little Lilac to fill my every pore, and letting it loose in one giant burst, shooting out into the evening sky to become one with the universe, I chanted over and over: Mine, mine, mine.... envisioning Lilac firmly planted by my front door (so I also did some screaming and pleading, but I won't tell...it was highly embarrassing, very un-witchy, and pretty much summed up to "GIMMEEEE" ).

Two days later the nursery called for me to pick up my tree :) Apparently right around the time of ritual, the man had called back and said they would agree to the switch. When I went to pick Lilac up, my little car was FLYING down the interstate, and wouldn't you know, first thing that happened when I arrived at the nursery, I sat in the dirt again. Crying happy tears this time. It was quite a labor to get Lilac out of his hole and into the car (and back out and into my yard, later), but the drive home was pleasantly short, surely defying physics and geography. I did hardly notice time or the miles passing, with Lilac and Me both humming to ourselves happily.

By the time we reached home, it was raining heavily. Not that anything short of a hurricane would have deterred me from planting, but have you ever tried to dig a whole half as deep as yourself in a downpour in a mostly clay ground?? Let's just say the neighbors peaked out of their windows every so often to see if I was still kneeling in the mud puddles. It took about two hours for the hole to be deep enough, and I must have looked like Mother Nature herself. I could 'hear' the neighbors' thoughts: 'Now she's surely gone off the deep end for good'.

Little Lilac was sitting in his travel bag behind me, throwing one hissy fit after the other, complete with rustling leaves and all, muttering obscenities. My brain was rattling with thoughts of being hugged by smooth earth, and spreading my branches, errr, arms into the sky, feeling my toes expand.... I was becoming slightly confused. My main train of thought seemed to be along the lines of: 'Hurry UP already, I want to spread my ROOOOOOTS'. Every time I thought about taking a break or postponing the planting, the little one gave me a splitting headache :)

When I had the hole half filled again with good, rich earth, and lowered Lilac into his new home, I could hear him sigh. When I cut the burlap trapping his roots, I felt them expand under my hands eagerly (already, one year later, I have enough new shoots to start a whole lilac hedge). He was happy, ooohh, so happy. I tucked the fragrant earth around him, added a few small flowers around his base and a tiny white fence to encircle his home, so the grass would not grow into him. It was dark when I went inside to take a hot bath and crawl into bed exhausted, but I felt better than ever. Lilac's leaves were rustling in the wind outside my window.

Not a day passed that summer where I have not spend at least a few minutes with my little guardian tree, touching, snuggling, watching. Within a few months all his branches reached slightly into the direction of my front door, like open arms waiting for me to come out. By now, he has a little white sister, and a tiny mauve brother (which he jealously bullied into changing colors after the first year, HE is the only dark purple, and that's that!), and he continues to be the pride of the yard, growing faster than humanly, excuse me, tree-ly, possible. Once a year I dig up all the shoots, to expand the hedge towards the road. All the cuttings, even if it is just a small piece of root, take to the ground and develop leaves within a remarkable short time. They guard the house from the outside world, and also mark the boundary. They are comfort for my furry ones when their time comes, for they also are the gravestones to my lost four-footed friends. I can imagine, in just a short decade, a bright wall of flowering fence. And all these blessings stem from a short moment of opening up and allowing one little tree to enter my soul.....

May you always know where your roots are. Literally :)
Green Blessings,

© Sorceress SummerWind
SummerWind's HealingBreezes

http://www.healingbreezes.com