One day my dearly beloved Aunt Ruthie and I were driving to a small town in coastal Massachusetts, where my family originated back when this beautiful country was settled. She wanted to teach me about from where I come, my roots, if you will. As we approached a road flanked with tall Oaks and Maples, she quickly pointed out the roadway ahead. As she took her hand off the wheel and pointed to the dense canopy of green above our heads she said, “See the green tunnels? Aren’t they beautiful? At first I wasn’t sure what she meant, but then quickly realized she was talking about the canopy layer of trees above us that was so thick, you couldn’t see the sky. Her face was beaming with delight and she seemed to revel in the view so much, that she slowed down her driving to enjoy it for as long as possible.
“It’s magical,” she said. Suddenly I felt as though I was transported to another dimension. I saw the trees in a different light, imagining what those old Oaks and Maples must have seen in the decades before us. Sure, I’ve always deeply loved nature, have had a profound appreciation and respect for it, and felt that deep connection throughout my being, but never thought about the way the trees seemed to guide the way as they now did. They welcomed us, called out to us to keep going, to see where they led, to take in their majestic beauty while removing any other distractions. Their tender leaves waved at us with a gentle hello as the sun peeked through in laser-beam rays that dotted the road. I felt as though I was sharing a very special moment with a kindred spirit. As a kid I’d climb trees every chance I got, even fell out of one at a young age, which tore a necklace I wore away from me, never to be found again. The tree kept it for safekeeping, I thought. It needed it more than I did, I guessed.
“Make a wish,” she then blurted out as we were nearing the end of the tunnel. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, and wished for something (if I tell you it won’t come true). There was something about that moment, driving through Nature’s “green tunnel” that made time stop, suspended us forever in that moment. You will know when this happens yourself, when you recall a memory, whether something has sparked it or you just happen upon the thing, person, or place that instilled it, and the very same feeling you had at the moment of the occurrence taking place, occurs again. Deja Vu, perhaps. I call it the “joy fuzzies.”
The Green Tunnels are going to disappear again, soon, to be replaced by the glorious rage of colors that drives humans to go “leaf peeping.” Now I go “tunnel peeping!” I no longer have to wait for the splashed tapestry of reds, yellows, crimsons and oranges of Autumn. I no longer take the carpeted greens of summer (below and above) for granted, before the colors of autumn fade, fall down to the Earth, and become a part of the cycle of life, to be reused as Nature’s mulch, protecting the sacred ground for winter’s wrath. Who knows where the green tunnels will lead me, or you. They simply ask us to look up, look ahead, and feel the comfort, joy and beauty of Nature’s green light, leading the way.
Thank you Aunt Ruthie, for the Green Tunnels; I know you’re enjoying them with me in spirit. Praise Be!
~~~The Wonder Worker!