Ode To Trees

My husband has American roots. In 2013 we were staying with some of his friends in Los Angeles. This was the first time I'd ever been to this family's home, but I'd known them socially since 2009. My husband had been to their place many times and hadn't experienced anything odd.

Their house is a modern design. Open plan, long floor to ceiling windows. To be honest the house itself is not to my taste at all, but it's got a great atmosphere. The garden on the other hand is quite established and very cool. Rock gardens with plants weaving around. Creepers on the fences, a couple of large trees out the back and a couple in the front garden as well.

We arrived at their place late afternoon, after meeting up and spending the morning with some other friends. They were having a BBQ by the time we arrived. I guess there were about ten people there. We spent most of the rest of that day and evening in their backyard.

After a full on day, at about 11 o'clock I started feeling pretty tired so I decided to prepare for bed early. I said goodnight to everyone and went inside. After I'd gone through the usual bedtime routine stuff I realised the bed hadn't been made, no sheets, just a throw blanket on top. I didn't know where the linen was kept and I was pretty worn out. Didn't want to interrupt the party, plus the idea of making a bed was a bit too overwhelming. So instead I kicked my shoes off and had a 'nap' on the couch.

When I woke up the lights were off and all was silent. One of their cats was sleeping on my feet and someone had put the throw blanket on me. I was like a passed out drunk, this amused me because I don't drink! I've no idea what the time was, but it was obvious all visitors had left and everyone had gone to bed.

The couch faces the front window, where there's a balcony. It's all window so you can see the front garden. The room we were staying in is next to the couch and the door to that room was half open. As I sat up I could tell my husband was asleep in there. It looked so peaceful out on the balcony so I decided to step out and take it in before going to bed.

There's a street light right outside their house and this lights the front pretty well. It also lights the kitchen/living area where I was. I went to the bathroom before going outside. The house was pretty well lit from the outside so I didn't turn any lights on.

The door to the balcony is opposite the couch I was asleep on, it's a sliding glass door. Where I stood on the balcony was opposite the door and in line with the couch. I don't know if this makes a difference or not, but my position hadn't strayed much from a straight line, couch to balcony, not counting the bathroom interlude. Right in front of the balcony, to the left of me is a big Jacaranda tree. At first I was looking down at the rock garden under the balcony. Their front yard has a high fence with some creeper climbing up it. I was raised to call this creeper 'happy wanderer', but apparently it's called 'morning glory'. Sorry but that's such a humourous name for a plant! Whatever you call it, I love this creeper, so my attention was soon drawn to the 'morning glory' on the fence (still funny). However, I wasn't laughing, just peaceful and taking in the night atmosphere.

They also have a tall gum tree by the fence, next to the morning glory. I was thinking 'this garden could be in Australia' because of the trees, plants and the dry, hard soil. As I was thinking this something happened that I can't really articulate very well. The big Jacaranda next to the balcony, in front of me a bit to the left, sort of bent one or two (not sure) of its branches down towards me so the branch was touching the backs of my shoulders. In this moment I felt like crying, but in a nice way. Sort of transfixed, but not afraid. I looked up to the rest of the tree and half whispered 'hi'. This response felt like an internal awareness of the external bizarreness. I can't say how long this lasted, maybe 20 seconds, maybe longer. Then the branch or branches returned to their normal resting position. They returned steadily, just as they'd lowered. There was no spring back action like you'd expect. I wasn't scared, I felt really calm. Also that I'd received some kind of 'thanks'.

Sorry to any empaths reading, starting to well up here a bit. A few years before this happened I had some sort of mental snap in that I became angered at gentrification. But on an even deeper level I became outraged by the destruction of nature or the destruction of any heritage. I was still reeling from this new rage, still am really. I had always otherwise been quite unaffected by these things, never had a feeling or opinion either way. But watching old neighbourhoods being destroyed and replaced with Lego land got to me. I became a quiet activist. I've never been to a protest, and I don't chain myself to trees. I stay at home and study the local laws of any given location, then go for the jugular. It's hard slog but it works.

In this capacity I have no connection to the location and hadn't spoken of it that day. All the same I felt this tree must have known or sensed this from me. At least that's the impression I got.

It's an uphill battle being a left wing vigilante and, oh my days, can it wear you down over time. I went back inside with a sense of my place in the world, like validation through encouragement. The tree was near our bedroom window. As I laid in bed I looked at its branches trying to figure which one or ones had moved. The lower ones were higher up to me, by at least a couple of feet. I also didn't hear any creaking of wood, just some leaf movement. I fell asleep pondering all this, watching the tree.

Next morning I tried to think of an explanation, an animal weighed it down, the tree was shedding branches, I was sleepwalking. Well, I don't have any history of sleepwalking, there were no fallen branches in the morning, an animal could've weighed it down, but it would have to be super heavy. I don't think so. The way the branch or branches bent were quite unnatural, all the branches were quite thick. I was only aware of one branch bent down, it was on the left side of my face. It looked a bit like an elephant's trunk, bent in that way. For anyone who knows the LA Arboretum the way the palms bend in the water was like how the branch stooped forward. All in all it felt like the tree was showing me its consciousness which, in a deeper way, might be aligned to my inner rage. On a slightly different note, I think this is why I stick up for those bloody shadow people. They seem to go for the jugular, even though I believe their targets are nearly always misplaced.

I didn't know where things stood paranormal-wise with this family, so I didn't bring it up. I told my husband the next chance I got, which was the following evening. He didn't have an explanation either and, like me, had never heard of it happening before. Then a couple years back Manafon submitted his experience of a very similar nature and I almost fell off my chair. The only difference being he saw a face whereas I didn't.

I like to think trees have some as yet unknown ability to manipulate their limbs in our time. That is to say, I believe trees experience time differently to us. They argue with each other, form friendships with each other and animals. These individual histories can be read in their shape, the way they react to surroundings. Just as our histories can be read in our own behaviour. I know some believe trees have humanoid spirits. But I think this is human ego. However, I do believe trees can be a home for other entities, just as they are home to animals, perhaps even a doorway to another realm. But as for their individual identity, I believe they are their own entity - they're trees. I think they're magnificent just the way they are. Literally and figuratively.

Thanks for reading.