MOS Bookshelf Welcomes Theresa Daly – I Am A Tree Hugger

Yesterday, I received my inscribed copy of Wild Atlantic Soul from Theresa Daly as well as a second inscribed copy for the Mike O’Shays Literary Bookshelf. I didn’t want to delay getting the book to its final resting place so, after working hours, I drove down to Longmont and handed it off the Jen, the Assistant Manager, who placed it on the now crowded shelf. The shelf has become such a hot ticket that some writers are now sending their books directly to MOS, which is what I was hoping for.

The shelf is larger than any individual writer.

For those writers out there who are hoping to see their books join this illustrious group of writers, please send in your books,

just remember to inscribe the book to Lonnie or Jen, thanking them for including the book on the MOS book shelf.

Jen reserved TD’s book as its first NoCo reader.

Jen is Italian so she may not fully respond the Celtic undertones that are woven throughout the Irish Diaspora, but I’m sure she will appreciate the love poems. They have a universality to them. And the Italians are lovers.

I’m proud to see another Riverdalian on the shelf, especially a poet of Theresa’s talent and distinction.

But we definitely need a bigger shelf.

On the way home from MOS, I decided to knock another event off my bucket list by hugging my first tree in real time – see the video on my FB page. https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100091444194790

I’ve always had an affinity for trees. Climbed many in my day. They have been the witnesses of human history.

When I first moved to what later became Casa Claire, I was immediately struck by the stature and energy of the tall spruce tree which shielded my front porch and doorway. I felt its protection of the house and its occupants. When I redid that front area, new siding, deck and cement work, I created a small grotto, where I now love to spend time each day. The spruce tree has given me its name – Jack the Spruce. That is the name it bears in The Claire Saga. That is how I address it when I come and go each day.

JTS now bears many ornaments including chimes that serenade me in the regular NoCo wind and tiny bits and pieces that my grand children have left behind. The power in JTS’s long branches still protect them wherever they are.

There are other trees on the property whose energy and protection draw Claire and Honey into their regular orbit. Because the back and side properties are treeless, the mules make regular pilgrimages to the front of the property. They spend a lot of time in the gravity of the Cottonwood I call “Old Man.” When I finally purchased a trough for the front I placed it for the creatures under the Old Man’s canopy.

Other times Claire and Honey like to take a siesta under the awnings of a copse of younger cottonwoods I call “the Girls” that stand right along my driveway.

Animals are very intuitive. They only rest where they feel safe and protected.

Well, anyway, when I was returning from delivering TD’s wonderful book of poetry to the MOS Literary Bookshelf, I was inspired to stop at this majestic old cottonwood that stands guard by itself along a rural stretch of road south of Casa Claire. This magnificent tree is the first to turn green in the spring and the first to drop its leaves in the fall. Indeed, the other trees in the area all take their cue from this one. I noticed that it stands at the entrance of a large farming property that has been up for sale for a while. In these parts that usually means that the latest generation has finally moved away and when the last farming occupants pass, the property is sold for lots of money and turned into something it should never be. Despite the transition away from the family it most likely has protected for generations, this mighty cottonwood stands resolute, like one of the Queen’s Guard in London.

I’ve taken to calling this tree Treebeard, after the character in Tolkien’s LOTR.

Note: If you continue down that particular stretch and then make a left, you will ultimately arrive at the town of Hygiene where Helen and Bobbi’s fabled Oracle exists.

If you look carefully through Treebeard’s branches, you will see the Three Witches in the background, peeking over the foothills. Always watching.

It seems that JRR also had an affinity for trees.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trees_in_Middle-earth

Indeed, one of his favorites was a Black Pine he named Laocoön.

I just noticed this, but isn’t it strange how my version of Treebeard bears a striking resemblance to Laocoön

Anyway, yesterday evening, as I was returning from my TD/MOS literary mission home to Casa Claire, I felt compelled to stop and give Treebeard a hug.

I wanted to let Treebeard know that he still mattered.

And even when they finally fall, the trees continue to offer protection and sustenance, as fuel, or furniture, or housing, and the paper in our books.

If there is anything truly sad about getting old, for humans or any other creatures, it is the feeling that one day you may wake up to irrelevancy.

One of the many gifts I received by growing up in a multigenerational home was that I was taught to honor and respect the elders of my Clan. Each generation had their influence on the next couple of generations that followed them until they drew their last breath, and sometimes beyond.

Their lasting impact on who I have become has been documented in slightly fictional form in The Claire Saga.

I also acknowledge the many other elders on this earth in my books, and now, Treebeard the Cottonwood, in this blog. Hopefully, this will influence the generations that follow me.

Well my work day awaits.

Time to set aside the magic, just for now.

But first, my kitty cuddles and my rounds.

You fine, five readers get out there and whisper your secret weekend plans to Thursday, the handmaid to Friday.

And whatever else you do, let us make today a great one.

And if there is an elder in your life, drop them a line and let them know you are thinking about them.