The Tree by the Brook

What an old willow struck by lightning taught me about adaptation

At the edge of our garden, beside the brook, stands a willow that was said to have been struck by lightning a number of years ago. The bolt split it almost in half and by all appearances, it should have been the end of the story.

But despite the odds, the tree is still here; still growing. Its branches reaching out each spring as though they have simply accepted the shape life gave them. The wound remains, of course - and you can still see where the trunk was torn apart. Yet over the years, it has become something else too.

This summer I discovered a colony of bees making their home inside the hollow left by the lightning. Not far away, a hornet mimic hover-fly rested amongst the leaves, its own story intertwined with theirs.

Standing beside it, I found myself wondering whether nature sees damage differently to us. What first appeared to be destruction had become shelter over time, and what looked like the end of one purpose had made room for another.

The fallen trunk has its own story too. Years ago, the family who lived here before us built a bridge across it, spanning the brook below. It’s the sort of place that conjures up stories of friendly trolls and fairies beneath its branches. The children in our family never seem to notice the trees wounds – they only see the adventure it offers.

It may have never become the tree it had been before but it found a way to keep growing around the place where it broke and I wondered whether healing sometimes looks like that too.

Illness can sometimes feel like lightning - arriving without invitation and leaving behind a life that no longer resembles the one you knew.

And I wonder whether by allowing the lightning, and those fractured parts, to become part of our story (rather than the end of it) is how we begin to adapt.

For a long time I found myself measuring my life against the one I had lost. I don’t know if I will ever become the person I was before illness - and maybe that’s ok. I also don’t know whether trees heal in quite the same way people do but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

What I hope though is that, like the old willow by the brook, I might keep finding ways to grow despite the wounds and the cracks, and that in doing so, I might also become somewhere others find a little shelter.