Treelines: oak

Sharing the first in a series of love letters to trees from some unexpected authors.

I'm embarking on a joint exhibition to be hosted throughout August in a museum setting here in Herefordshire at the county archive centre, HARC.

Exhibition concept for 'Treelines'

Two Herefordshire-based artists are collaborating to create a multimedia exhibition inspired by their mutual awe for trees.

'Treelines' will feature artwork by Helen Arthur and jewellery designs by Elizabeth Terzza.

We'll share a behind-the-scenes glimpse of our dual practices — writing, printmaking, painting, and jewellery design — in an exhibition that's one big love letter to trees.

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'Treelines Love Letters'

As part of this venture, I wanted to do some writing as well as image-making. I knew the subject would be about the power and importance of trees, but I wanted the stories to be personal, intriguing, and from unexpected perspectives. I landed on the concept of love letters and I've drafted a handful of these now.

So, I'm publishing this, the first of my "Treelines Love Letters," below. I have quite a few up my sleeve, but it's such a fun puzzle to share... and I'd love your suggestions for other author-candidates and recipient tree species in the comments below.

My dearest mighty oak,

We first met when I was just the orb of an egg, thanks to my ingenious mum. She power-drilled a pinhole tunnel with her rostrum — that superior long mouthpart (like the beak of a curlew) — into one of your acorns. Then, she carefully inserted me, a single, glowing ball, into that cozy acorn interior. So I began life with you, safely tucked away from predators. Not only that! You provided me with a healthy diet 24/7, and I barely got out of bed. Beat that, human teens!

With the winds of autumn, and the acorn nicely bronzed by a summer of sun, my first bedroom slash pantry dropped to the woodland floor with a bump. What a ride! My ancient genes told me this was the sign to eat my way out of my first home.

Can you imagine my delight when I finished sculpting a perfect escape hatch and squirmed into the world to set eyes on your majestic canopy? Thousands of your leaves were on the turn with oranges, yellows, and bronze gilding your lobed leaf-margins, such a glorious, if short-lived, sight.

There was no time to waste; I knew I needed safety. Yet again, you provided... I dug down through your generous leaf mulch into the soil at your roots, so welcoming—warm and sweet-smelling. Here, I began my next and longest stage of life with a cathedral roof for shelter, formed by your massive root system. I loved it here as a larva, and grew fatter and fatter in the dark as winter raged overhead.

But eventually, I had to pupate. I can't tell you much about this. It's all a mystery to me, and I'm happy it stays that way, but I had quite a shock when I woke up to find myself with a hard shell and even legs. Who knew?

All I can say is you're the gift that keeps on giving. It was an absolute honour this spring to emerge from the soil, newly booted so to speak, and feel you calling me into your flourishing crown. You have the most alluring siren song, is all I can say. It was so thrilling to migrate upwards with hundreds of us acorn weevils scuttling en masse up your vast trunk to live among your leaves and branches.

I was witness to your delicate tiny red blossoms and catkins unfolding, followed by green acorns to decorate your branches like baubles. It won't be long until they're full-grown. Then I'll select your finest specimen and lay my first egg, just as my mother did before me. For now, I'm loving exploring the dappled patchwork of your fresh leaves.

So thank you, dear oak, the great provider. Thank you from the tip of my amazing rostrum to the toes of my clever little feet, perfectly adapted to life among acorns.

Ever yours,

Curculio glandium, the acorn weevil

To find out more about Treelines please follow my social media accounts @helenarthurart on Instagram and Facebook. I recommend seeing the fabulous work by Treelines co-creator @elizabethterzza

The next instalment for Treelines here on Substack will feature Willow, and another unexpected love letter author - can you guess who or what they might be?