I am a huge fan of the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. I love the allegory. I love that trees talk and move.
When I go into our woods, I think of Narnia, and also of Hobbits. My imagination flourishes when I go walking about.
Last week, my grandson, daughter, son in law, Dale and I went walking though our woods. We were down by our creek, walking along side of it. I pointed out a tree on the hillside. The roots were bare and the tree was growing out of the side of a hillside. One root was strongly in place. It held the tree up, it seemed.
I looked at it closely. It looked like a foot, it’s toes embedded into the soil and almost on tip toes the root went up into the tree. We talked about it. I mentioned it was like a tree from Narnia, where it had been frozen and could no longer walk or talk. I asked my grandson what the tree’s name was.
Without hesitating he told me the tree’s name was Arthur. We told a story about Arthur and we talked about him. The following day we went down and spoke to Arthur again.
I never thought I would ever meet a tree named Arthur. But, here, Arthur lives in my woods. His name fits his personality and his feet. They look to be a size 13 or 14. He has a ‘good under standing’ even if we can only see one of his feet.
Arthur was stopped from moving up from the stream. He looks as if he meant to keep moving to the edge of the woods, but, alas, he is stopped by the creek below him.
Maybe some day Arthur will start to walk again.
The Refreshing of a Wild Rose 