Trees in Athens

My new rental apartment in Athens was surrounded by trees, which is not unusual, as there are countless homes around the world also encircled by these majestic creatures. The difference, which may only occur in Greece, is that the trees talk to each other, and they seem to speak the same language whether they look like lemon trees, palm trees, olive trees, or any other such beauties. They seem to understand each other through their leaves and surely their roots. But what are they saying?

“The rains finally fell upon us. Thank you, Sky, for the water!” one of the lemon trees, a zesty talker, intimated.

“Indeed, Little Sun (lemon tree)!” replied a little palm tree, whose littler friends considered a giant.

“But it is a little cold,” whispered another lemon tree, this one with a hidden zeal, a skill in many circles.

“You must feel it more up there than we do down here,” rustled all its little friends around its trunk and one of its branches.

But it is underground that the real conversations occur between their roots.

“Did you hear the one about the Sun going nova?” asked a big root, pretending to be above ground.

“Yes! The two-legged monsters talk about it as if it is going to happen any time soon,” replied a root’s root.

“When is it going to transpire?” asked an inquisitive root, which happened to look like a question mark.

“When Zeus* and Kronos* meet in the faraway universal sky,” replied the oldest root.

Having followed the conversation as best as it could, an olive tree’s root in a small park across the garden sent a message from root to root, but by the time it reached the conversation, it was somewhat skewed.

“Yes, I also like all the new roots,” was the message.

It is always a pleasure to look at and listen to trees and other plants exist. They seem to live their lives musically, as Nature composes all the songs. Humans compose masterpieces and add appropriate words, but their messages are often, if not always, lost somewhere between ignorant and or mean minds.

* Zeus is the original Greek name for Jupiter, and Kronos for Saturn.

There are interesting conversations above ground as well. Anthi loves them best. They are more reliable. Root talk is hard to hear, and leaves can lie when talking about their roots. Branches have their own issues besides the silent cacophony of the leaves, twigs notwithstanding. The wind is a friend and the Sun is godly. Other creatures, the mobile ones, are also welcomed, although some of them, many of them in some cases, leave a lot to be desired. Nonetheless, they all talk; I mean, the leaves. We call it, rustling, but it is leaf talk. They keep talking until they fall, usually during fall, although I prefer to call it, autumn, because it ought, not fall.

What are they saying?

Anthi has a better ear for their sounds, but I seem to grasp other meanings. They talk about the Sun as the essence of their existence. We find meaning in meaningless things. They dislike the night and love the stars. The Moon is too unstable for them, with its fading smiles and monthly temperament. Leaves that touch more than twice are officially engaged, and after the fifth, they are married, until they fall, hopefully at the same time. But it does not happen often, like for us, humans. Like the human condition, there is the plant condition.

We were sitting under our favourite olive tree in Goddess Athena's garden, the tree that observed the birth of our love for each other, when Anthi whispered that she could hear the leaves talking.

What are they saying? my Anthi.

"I can only discern the words, Athena and love. They love Athena," replied, my Anthi.

Who does not love our dearest Goddess? All trees adore her, as do all other creatures after meeting her; some of them even before.

"Indeed, my M."

-----

Wood - A Hunk Haiku

A hunk of wood is

like a hunk of meat, except

that wood never stinks.

Indeed! Rotten wood smells like life, whereas rotten meat smells like death.