Three prayerful friends

27th day of Lent

MARCH 27th 2017

WEEPING, HEAVENLY AND BLUE

The willow outside my study window is now begin to weep young leaves from its cascading twigs and branches. It is a beautiful tree. It shields and protects and, in summer, creates a veil of dappled sunlight. Around its base is a crown of daffodils. The willow doesn't only weep leaves, over time it weeps its tendril-like twigs and branches all over the place. It guards a very mossy lawn which is now developing into a gentle prayer labyrinth, whose outline is accentuated by carefully laid out piles of slim branch spears collected through the winter. Its weeping nature is an aid to prayer. The Weeping Willow is generous with its 'tears'.

This prayerful patch of ground is guarded by another rather fine and unusual mature tree, called a Tree of Heaven (left). This originates from China and has very much fewer leaves and is a very much later bloomer. I don't expect to see any sign of greenery much before the middle of May. While the willow humbly pours down its tears, the Tree of Heaven's worshipful branches lift up to the skies. Both were planted by a former vicar of St Hilda's who loved his gardening. Revd Canon Jack Pigott and his wife Iris had nine very happy years serving Warley Woods. They were the first to live in the vicarage, built in 1965. So it fell to them to plant trees and lay out the garden. We live in the shadow of their imaginations. I wonder if they were able to envisage then how their generous gift of trees would shape and enclose the landscape that we now know? 

When we moved into the vicarage on a very cold and snowy day in early February 2009, we welcomed the bare trees which surrounded us like an enfolding family. As we got used to the back garden, we could not but help admire a third tree planted by Jack  - a Blue Atlas Cedar (right). This very fine specimen originates from the high and stark Atlas mountains of the Maghreb of Tunisia, Algeria and Morocco. You could not imagine a bigger contrast than that of a traditional English vicarage garden and the majesty of the 13,000ft peaks of North Africa!

Our Blue Atlas has a prayerfulness all of its own, with ever uplifted arms which sway gently in the breezes or stand peaceably in the still blue sky days of summer. It is a tree to be greatly loved, I feel. I can often just get lost in time gazing at it from the kitchen window while making a cup of tea. The kettle could go cold as I stand fascinated by its wave-like movements. 

As we got used to the garden, we realised it was a mixed blessing. For the cedar was too big really for the plot. It would be more at home on Warley Woods. It leached the soil of goodness and made it difficult (despite our best efforts) to grow any decent vegetables. And the trees which we initially welcomed as enfolding friends also became serried sentries who blocked out a lot of the sun.  

But these three trees teach me much about prayer. How sometimes we can't help but weep our prayers; sometimes we can only praise in our prayers; sometimes we can get lost in our prayers. Weeping, heavenly and blue - these three sentries have inspired many prayers. Long may they do so.