Page 26, Line 26 by Paul White
Inspired by line 26, page 26 from The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben.
The Gathering
Normally the trees would fight back by making the insects’ meal extremely bitter – literally. But today was the first day of spring and the trees were feeling playful.
They simply swayed gently in the breeze as bugs walked steeply up their gnarly trunks. They breathed calmly as beetles scurried along their strong-armed branches. They bowed sedately as weevils snacked on their juicy green foliage. In the afternoon heat, leafhoppers forgot to hop and were lulled into taking a little nap. The ants of course, scampered rudely over dull ear wigs in their haste to reach the top.
Dotted around the edge of the park, the trees formed a semi-circle. Tall oaks and beeches stood protectively above their gangly pohutukawa cousins and rata relatives. A few precocious young titoki vied for attention from a group of elders.
As the insects hummed, buzzed and murmured happily, the trees began to prepare for what they had sensed was on its way. Pale cirrostratus clouds skimmed across the sky. Stalking eerily behind them came hordes of black cumulonimbus.
From the highest leaf down, down, down, under the dark earth and out along the outstretched roots, the word spread.
Just before the storm broke, the wind roared and then it rushed headlong into the trees, gust after gust. Each tree allowed the gale to bend it over almost to breaking point.
As the first squalls passed, the trees sprang back in an instant and in unison, flinging a thick cloudburst of insects high into the air. Storm-rustled leaves made a sound not entirely unlike laughter.
Paul White