A True Tree Story

Frankly, I have never given much thought to trees. My acquaintance with trees was no more developed than that of an educated teenager – roots, rings, foliage for some, evergreen for others, edible fruits in some… I know that they turn into furniture, tools, and paper of all kinds, how important they are for absorbing CO2 and other pollutants, and also something about their frightening, excessive extraction in the rain forests. I have always appreciated their presence in the hot seasons in the region where I grew up and lived most of my life. I preferred the evergreen hills of Judea or the Galilee mountains to the more yellowish plains and the dry, dusty deserts. I loved walking along Tel Aviv’s shadowed boulevards. In New England where I live today, I am still fascinated by the manifold of foliage colors in the fall. Trivial knowledge and common preferences.

Some years ago, I read that scientists study communication among trees. The research seemed fascinating. The possibility of trees – those models of standalone creatures – living some kind of communal lives, exchanging messages, collaborating, even caring for each other and for some other creatures felt like good news among so much doomsday prophecy coming from the students of nature. Some scientists who follow underground fungal networks even seem to abandon the entrenched, dominant reductionism of their field. They have started adopting certain forms of rhizomatic, or “assemblagist” thinking, and dared to learn from the wisdom and experience of indigenous peoples’ tree stories.