#trees

The red horse did not find it amusing his sire had been named McFlirt.

‘To be the seventh son of a horse named “Of a Flirt” is not my idea of a good timing,’ said the horse.

If words could be uttered from a horse’s mouth, then they would be spoken as honestly as the humans could interpret them. There is much “tongue in cheek” here, but the chestnut has a sense of humour today, apparently.

It is quite a shame some people believe a horse is not up to telling a story, but the chestnut is accompanied by his new old friend who has been named for a Strawberry and doesn’t mind a bit. If anyone else thinks these are terrible puns, please let me know. I don’t think all of them are mine.

Anyway… The chestnut does not roll his eyes, because he leaves that to his friend, who is quite good at pulling faces. I can personally vouch for this, as I have seen it, and he is a funny old duffer indeed. They have consented to having their photographs taken by their owners, so we are in luck in knowing the pictures provided to this particular WordPress blog are genuine and legal. Isn’t that wonderful. That was a rhetorical question.

Today, we do not enter into the personal previous life of Knox the gelding, as he is busy being a horse with no name and pretending to chase bulls down unfamiliar streets with cobbled stones and skinny windows. Hey look, I’m just repeating what the horse is saying, so you really can’t correct me. If he isn’t a horse and just pretending to be the one attempting to bite his best mate’s backside, then I have many questions to ask, and I probably won’t get answers to them.

Knox (the horse) asks us to remember his mature-age friend, the dark bay who was once a strawberry roan, cannot be ridden anymore as he has a bad back, but biting him on the arse is perfectly acceptable. I would just like to say I won’t be trying this myself anytime soon, and nobody else should either. Frazier is quite a large horse, and although he is extremely patient with his younger companion, he would likely get quite a fright if tiny humans thought sinking their teeth into him would be a good idea. He can still kick if he needs to.

I think perhaps photographs of the true characters in this short piece would probably help.

To Simply be a Tree.

There is often the assumption when a child is given a part in a school play that if they are in the position of acting as a tree, it is simply to include that child in the experience of being onstage.

Think about this.

I know when I look at trees, they are not still or unmoving, unless there is no wind. They do not stay exactly the same colour, unless there is no sunlight or rain. They do not stay the same size unless they have been pulled from the ground.

One might get a particularly precocious child who may ask, ‘If I am a tree, then what kind of tree am I?’

The teacher may respond, ‘You are simply a tree.’

Simply a tree? What does this mean? How does one simply be a tree, when there are so many to choose from? But, the child, if they decide to be less argumentative than usual, may think to themselves, ‘Okay then, I am “simply a tree”.’ And they will look at a tree and see how its branches sway with a breeze, how its leaves may shiver and shake, how, depending on what type of tree it is in the child’s mind, it might lose a leaf occasionally or perhaps all at once.

The teacher, depending on how tired or not they are, may look upon this child and think to themselves, ‘This is a wonderful idea. Why have just one tree in my play, when I can have an entire grove of trees that change with the seasons, that give us the idea of light and movement, seasons and weather, simply by being trees. I can work with this. I will make this play both magical and realistic, simply by adding trees.’

Many years later, someone may come across this child or these children as adults and ask them, ‘Did you have experience in acting as a child?’ and the former child or children may answer with, ‘Yes, I was a tree in a school play once.’

It is the intelligent and thoughtful person who hears this response and may think to themselves, ‘This person played the part of a tree. I am really quite envious.’

‘How wonderful it must have been to be a tree,’ the person might respond.

Being a tree is a wonderful thing indeed. One may not use their voice as others use their voices. One may not be moving around as others move around, but one is still expressing things through movement, however small, and through language, however different.

All this from simply being a tree.