Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky. …/Khalil Gibran


Uda Walawe Park at twilight. Photo© Chulie de Silva

Uda Walawe Park at twilight. Photo© Chulie de Silva

Neem (Margosa) tree at the University of Jaffna Campus. Photo © Chulie de Silva

Neem (Margosa) tree at the University of Jaffna Campus. Photo © Chulie de Silva

Trees at Habarana Lodge. Photo ©Chulie de Silva

Trees at Habarana Lodge. Photo ©Chulie de Silva

But then Gibran. continued and said … “We fell them down and turn them into paper, That we may record our emptiness.”

At least the “emptiness” we record  now digitally doesn’t fell down trees. But the avocado tree in my garden that I gaze at from my bedroom window and watch the birds singing and chirping was cut and burned to the ground and was a little stump about a decade ago. Why? Because it bore no fruit. It was barren. But the tree refused to die and little shoots started sprouting, and I let it be. The tree grew branching out, too heavy and into the next door garden. I got a man to trim the branches, and then regrettably discovered the flowers and what was a tiny budding fruit.

Avocado flowers. Photo©Chulie de Silva

Avocado flowers. Photo©Chulie de Silva

Sad I photographed the leaves fresh green with rain on it, the beauty of its fallen leaves and talked to it. But still there were no fruits.

Rain drops on a fallen avocado leaf. Photo © Chulie de Silva

Rain drops on a fallen avocado leaf. Photo © Chulie de Silva

Then one day recently, almost camouflaged by the noise of green, there was this one fruit.

The first avocado on my tree. Photo©hulie de Silva

The first avocado on my tree.  Can you spot it? Photo©Chulie de Silva

Whether I get to taste it or whether the monkey brood gets it doesn’t matter — the tree has come through its trauma and the birds on it tweets a whole new song.

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