Trees - the thisness
Around the small pond in the muddy field stand eight herons in the form of trees. Three oaks, three alders, a willow and hawthorn. I have found a bounty of thisness. 'Whatness' - the essence of, say dog, that makes a dog a dog. 'Thisness' - the essence of - a particular dog - that makes it unique. Dogs and people have a lot of thisness. Robins, on the other hand don't, they all pretty much follow the same robin blueprint. What else can rival dogs and people in their thisness - well I'd say trees. These trees in particular. Two of them. The first one is a hawthorn. Two forks of tree lightning. Siamese twin trunks - conjoined and symbiotic at the ground, then living their own lives more and more as they ascend. At tree top height each has almost forgotten it ever had a brother. The right hand hemi-trunk has a gnarled, rugged exterior - it is being regulation hawthorn. But, almost straight from a builder's yard, the inside is bare wood. And it is revealing