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Talking The Language of Trees

Talking The Language of Trees
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Listening to the Trees – They are Talking to us!

By Carol & Lu Dawn

Oft times they are found whispering quietly in the background; while at other times they stand proud and tall and speak boldly to us!

One may ask how this is possible; they tell us their ages by the number of rings in their trunks.  They speak out through the paper made from their bodies.  But in order to do these tasks, they must give their lives to us.  Once the oldest tree on earth was cut down just to have her rings counted and now hangs on the wall of a bar someplace in Nevada or other western desert place.  When the "scientist" completed the count and passed the age of Jesus, he left the motel in disgust of what he had done.

They carry stories in the nails and barbed wire found inside of them or clinging to their outer skins of bark, some of which have initials carved into them.  But the truth is they talk to us with the wind.  They whisper to us each time the winds blows through their leaves, limbs, and branches.  And that is the true language of the ‘trees’.

Lu Dawn has wished she could talk "Tree" and in some ways she does speak "Tree" as so many genealogists do!

It is good that the trees cannot tell us everything, as some pretty good old times have been had under their umbrellas. 

Never mind the Roots that have traveled here and there, just like our families; you see they do talk.  Just as in time of Little Tree, with all the ‘Marriage Stick’ of his great-grandparents had to say.

They talk to us through a system of ‘Family Trees”.  These family trees can be found recorded onto paper the trees gave their lives for. 

Carol tells she has seen a person seeking a genealogical ‘dowser’ and that would be one who uses a tree branch correctly chosen for the job. 

Let us know when the ‘dowser’ arrives as we want to watch and maybe get a chance to help out a bit!


Today, the 24 of September 2010, Branches of the 'Trees' spoke with us through Kail Cadman, grandaughter of our great Uncle Angus MacLean.  We located Kail and sent her an email.  Through email correspondence back and forth, Kail wrote that she had located the research papers Angus had done by a research team in Scotland back in 1967!  These are the results he spoke of in his book 'God and the Devil at Seal Cove' but inadvertantly forgot to include in that same book.
We are looking forward to what all they have within their pages!

Are there others who have had successful 'dowsing' experiences?  Perhaps a few branches are trying to speak to us at this very moment;  thus we must listen closely to what they are trying to say to us.....

Come, look with me inside this drawer,
In this box I've often seen,
At the pictures, black and white,
Faces proud, still, serene.
I wish I knew the people,
These strangers in the box,
Their names and all their memories
Are lost among my socks.
I wonder what their lives were like,
How did they spend their days?
What about their special times?
I'll never know their ways.
If only someone had taken time
To tell who, what, where, or when,
These faces of my heritage
Would come to life again.
Could this become the fate
Of the pictures we take today?
The faces and the memories
Someday to be passed away?
Make time to save your stories,
Seize the opportunity when it knocks,
Or someday you and yours could be
The strangers in the box.




"Searching For The Voice In My Heart"
The Census Taker

Crest Line
It was the first day of census, and all through the land
each pollster was ready ... a black book in hand.
He mounted his horse for a long dusty ride,
his book and some quills were tucked close by his side.
A long winding ride down a road barely there,
toward the smell of fresh bread wafting, up through the air.
The woman was tired, with lines on her face
and wisps of brown hair she tucked back into place.
She gave him some water ... as they sat at the table
and she answered his questions ...
the best she was able.
He asked her of children. Yes, she had quite a few --
the oldest was twenty, the youngest not two.
She held up a toddler with cheeks round and red;
his sister, she whispered, was napping in bed.
She noted each person who lived there with pride,
and she felt the faint stirrings of the wee one inside.
He noted the sex, the color, the age...
the marks from the quill soon filled up the page.
At the number of children, she nodded her head
and saw her lips quiver for the three that were dead.
The places of birth she "never forgot"
was it Kansas? or Utah? or Oregon ... or not?
They came from Scotland, of that she was clear,
but she wasn't quite sure just how long they'd been here.
They spoke of employment, of schooling and such,
they could read some ... and write some ... though really not much.
When the questions were answered, his job there was done
so he mounted his horse and he rode toward the sun.
We can almost imagine his voice loud and clear,
"May God bless you all for another ten years."
Now picture a time warp ... its' now you and me
as we search for the people on our family tree.
We squint at the census and scroll down so slow
as we search for that entry from long, long ago.
Could they only imagine on that long ago day
that the entries they made would effect us this way?
If they knew would they wonder at the yearning we feel
and the searching that makes them so increasingly real.
We can hear if we listen the words they impart
through their blood in our veins
and their voice in our heart.
---by Darlene Stevens
Published in Genealogy Bulletin No. 39 page 28, Spokane, WA.

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May 2007