Thinking Tree

Where the thunks are thunk.
Where the thinks are thunk.

On our (sadly infrequent) woodland rambles, Miss B and I pretty much always pass the Thinking Tree. Like Jenny Anydot’s house, it’s just one of my little names. The tree in itself is not a huge thinker.

However, it’s a lovely facilitator. The trunk is at just the right angle for climbing, and one can perch in the branches–though I do not do so when B is with me, because 1. safety and 2. SHE WILL GO MAD TRYING TO CLIMB AFTER ME. You have not seen stubborn until an Aussie can see her person but is barred from actual contact.

More than that, though, the tree welcomes one to reflect. It exudes a quiet air of “just settle for a moment and let the thing inside your head work for a little bit.” Especially in winter, when it’s asleep but still gives off that wonderful sense of being safe, welcomed, and encouraged to have a moment alone with your thoughts.