Last night Autumn arrived. Felt in the wind. Some little change in the air. O’er trail and track, the air, comes e’er cool. The breeze, ’tis changing, how to describe the change in the air. How does one welcome Autumn? Of all the seasons, Autumn announces the change of time with more presence that the rest. The call of the geese will mix with the wind breathing through the poplar. Cooler, ever cooler that’s the way the Autumn comes. Remember now, the hidden signs before the leaf turns gold. Look all around, summer’s going to sleep, the warmth falls from the air. No need to open almanac, nor seek the solstice ‘our, just feel the change, the sounds of air. The hungry winds seeking russet leaf. ‘Tis soon the theatre of the season, the forest to begin their ritual. The wandering wind blows away our sighs. The serene ir moves o’er the world. Moves man and beast, moves tree and forest. And so again, the story begins. On the edge of summer time. Autumn arrived quietly last night.
“First it was the seedlings…Then it was a smooth bark beech: ‘That was my Madonna of the woods, my mother confessor.’ Then it was the giant redwoods of California. And most recently it was a cedar of Labanon.”
Baker would oft recite the poetry of trees;
O dreamy, gloomy, friendly Trees,
I came along your narrow track
To bring my gifts unto your knees
And gifts did you give back;
For when I brought this heart that burns–
These thoughts that bitterly repine–
And laid them here among the ferns
And the hum of boughs divine,
Ye, vastest breathers of the air,
Shook down with slow and mighty poise
Your coolness on the human care,
Your wonder on its toys,
Your greenness on the heart’s despair,
Your darkness on its noise.
Frederic Herbert Trench (12 November 1865 – 11 June 1923)
“The aim … is briefly ‘ to develop a tree sense in every citizen, and to encourage all to plant, protect and love their native trees; for forestry is among the oldest and most honourable of the peaceful arts of men, and in its practice is unselfish and constructive service.’ ”
“In the words of Henry van Dyke, (10 November 1852 – 10 April 1933) America’s greatest tree poet, whom ’twas often quoted by St. Barbe.
The Friendly Trees.
He that planteth a tree is a servant of God;
He provideth a kindness for many generations
And faces that he hath not seen shall bless him.”
Brown, Gene. These Friends of the Trees. Panhandle Report.The Spokesman Review. Jan. 30, 1981.
Found Tree-Saving Colony in Africa Richard St. Barbe Baker, who will lecture here, writes of his adventures. The Sunday Morning Star. Jan. 26, 1930.
Sullivan, Jane. The Man of the Trees and his magnificent obsession. The Age. Sep. 10, 1981.