Quaker Pagan Reflections

Our hemlock tree is dying. Seventy feet tall or more, its feathery top boughs filter the light below.  Its triple trunk, hard roots, and burnished needles dominate the yard.  It cradles the altar Peter shaped to fit its branches.   Hemlock Tree and Clouds. Cat Chapin-Bishop, 2015. We have celebrated Lammas beneath this tree, watched its branches snare the moon, and carefully skirted the faerie ring at its feet. World Tree, Tree of Life, stubborn, strong, it shelters hundred wild creatures. Our hemlock tree is sacred.   And it is dying, in spite of anything we can do. T wo summers ago, my husband moved his parents to live in the house next door.  Their home in Ohio had become too hard to manage, and it was clear that Peter’s father’s dementia was worsening. We hoped that moving them across the country to live next door would improve their quality of life. We didn’t reckon on how much their moving here would improve our o...