Picture a field. No, better than that, picture a meadow, a non-conformist field, carpeted with wild grasses, tiny, delicate flowers and mosses of all different hues. A tangle of thick impenetrable shrubs borders the meadow on two sides, blending into an ancient and unruly hedgerow which curves round to meet great slabs of lichen splashed boulders which complete the enclosure of the meadow. The air above the meadow buzzes with insects and the call of unseen birds is carried by a sweet, gentle breeze.
In the centre of the meadow stands a tree. A gnarled and noble oak tree. It stands as sentinel of the meadow, a wise, elderly overseer, witness of countless passing seasons. Fly toward the oak and land at his base, amongst the arm-thick roots that radiate from the foot of his trunk, twisting themselves into the surrounding earth. This is where you start, this is the beginning.
“Hello ladybird.”
“Hello worm.”
“How are you?”
“I’m very well. I’m climbing to the top of the tree today. Would you like to join me?”
“Oh no, thank you! I would miss the smell of the soil too much.”
“Alright then, goodbye.”
And with that, the ladybird waved cheerily and started on her path toward the roots of the great oak. The worm watched her walking away and wondered why she was going to the top of the tree, then just shrugged, which is a difficult movement for a worm, and thought about something else. As he slowly spun round and started pushing himself into the soft earth, the ladybird reached one of the sinuous roots and set off on her journey.
Walking up the twisted length of the root, the ladybird looked upward at the trunk until it was lost from view amongst the many branches which stretched out at all angles and the dense foliage. She was glad she had started out early, as it would take her all morning to reach the summit of the old tree. Stepping between the other roots which intertwined with the one she was one, she soon reached the bottom of the trunk itself.
“Hello ladybird.”
“Hello ant.”
“How are you?”
“I’m very well. I’m climbing to the top of the tree today. Would you like to join me?”
“I’m afraid not. I have far too much work to do at the nest today.”
“Alright then, goodbye.”
And with that the ladybird waved cheerily and continued on her path up the old tree. The ant watched her walking away and wondered why she was going to the top of the tree, chuckled, which sounded very funny coming from an ant, then remembered he had to get his leaf back to the nest as soon as possible. As he headed off down the roots toward the earth, the ladybird had reached a large knot within the trunk of the tree.
The ladybird walked from a cracked surface of damp bark onto splashes of vivid moss growing round the edge of the knot. Small fungi sprouted here and there like steps, adding a dash of exotic colour and a pungent aroma to the scene. Deep within the knot it was all darkness, a cold, moist void of silence. Quickening her pace to leave this frightening area behind her, she soon reached the top of the knot.
“Hello ladybird.”
“hello spider.”
“How are you?”
“I’m very well. I’m climbing to the top of the tree today. Would you like to join me?”
“Can’t sorry. My web got broken during the night, so I have to go and fix it.”
“Alright then. Goodbye.”
And with that the ladybird waved cheerily and continued on her path up the old tree. The spider watched her walking away and wondered why she was going to the top of the tree, scratched her head, which was easy with eight legs, and started to spin her web. As she weaved her silken patterns about the tree, the ladybird was reaching the lowest and thickest of the branches.
Like thickly muscled limbs, branches stretched away from the torso of the tree in all directions. They in turn sprouted smaller branches which twisted, turned and criss-crossed each other creating a confused map of pathways over the ground below. From the smaller branches came the twigs, even more convulsive in their interweaving, crooked masts for the heavy covering of leaves. Reaching the highest point of the lowest branch, the ladybird paused for breath.
“Hello ladybird.”
“hello snail.”
“How are you?”
“I’m very well. I’m climbing to the top of the tree today. Would you like to join me?”
“That sounds like a great idea. However, I’m trying to find a safe place to sleep and can’t spare the time.”
“Alright then. Goodbye.”
And with that the ladybird waved cheerily and continued on her path up the old tree. The snail watched her walking away and wondered why she was going to the top of the tree, raised his eyebrows, which was an impressive sight to see, then returned to his important thoughts. About the same time that he became completely lost in thought, the ladybird was reaching the higher branches of the old oak tree.
Looking down now, the ladybird realised how far she had come. The ground below and the ring of roots were barely visible, distant and obscured by the wild tangle of branches above them. The branches here were thinner and less gnarled, a much lighter brown than their older counterparts. The ladybird could also feel the gentle wind sweeping through the upper parts of the tree, conducting the leaves in a whispered chorus.
“Hello ladybird.”
“Hello squirrel.”
“How are you?”
“I’m very well. I’m climbing to the top of the tree today. Would you like to join me?”
“Ooooh, I’d love to! But I’ve gone and forgotten where I hid my acorns, so I must find them as soon as possible.”
“Alright then. Goodbye.”
And with that the ladybird waved cheerily and continued on her path up the old tree. The squirrel watched her walk away and wondered why she was going to the top of the tree, then her tummy rumbled loudly, as she was very hungry, and she remembered her missing acorns. With a swish of her impressive tail she went bounding along a branch to search somewhere else as the ladybird was reaching the leafy canopy of the tree.
The ladybird felt as though she was beneath a huge green parasol, with shafts of bright sun cutting through at angles, giving the air an almost magical light. Teased by the breeze, the leaves created waves and patterns over her head. The branches and twigs here were slight, all craning upward, displaying their leaves like worshiping to the skies above. The ladybird knew she had almost completed her journey.
“Hello ladybird.”
“Hello caterpillar.”
“How are you?”
“I’m very well. I’m climbing to the top of the tree today. Would you like to join me?”
“Well, ummm, maybe later. I have so many leaves here to eat I don’t have a spare minute.”
“Alright then. Goodbye.”
And with that the ladybird waved cheerily and continued on her path up the old tree. The caterpillar watched her walk away and wondered why she was going to the top of the tree, puffed out his cheeks, which was the most comical thing to see, then spotted a leaf he hadn’t started nibbling yet. As he crept steadily toward his latest meal, the ladybird arrived at her destination.
At the tip of a leaf on the tip of a twig, the ladybird stood, suffused with the satisfaction of reaching her goal. Above her, swallows carved through the bright summer sky, laughing together as they arced and turned like a troupe of aerial dancers. Below her, the great wise oak, a living memory of centuries. All around her the meadow, to which the tree was both a symbol of and a part of. The woodland away to the sides, taller yet less dignified trees, densely packed and fighting each other for room. The hedgerow, a highway, hunting ground and home for so many of the inhabitants of the meadow. The great slabs of stone, leading upwards to distant hills, even older lands.
With the sun reflecting on her spotted shell, the ladybird thought back to all the friends she had met on her journey, wondered why they had not joined her, and smiled. Gently parting her shell, she unfurled her wings and buzzed away into the summer sky.
ses x
*for Sparky
opensesameseed 