The first of the deer I can remeber is a yearling stag on the front lawn of my parents’ home. It was running and scared for some reason, raging in a circle in search of escape. I was standing on the edge of the lawn as this sequence opened, and barely missed the cicrling deer as it passed. I eventually was chased by the deer to the entrance to the house, where he raced on into the trees behind the house.
The dream moved ahead in time and I was standing again at the entrance of the house. Past me moved a fawn in a motion both graceful and clumsy. It moved down the side of the lane towards the road alone. I began looking for the mother of the fawn, but could not spot a doe. I had a sense that the fawn might be in danger and was in need of its absent mother. The fawn made its way further and further from me towards the road. I had debated whether I should go to help it when the doe walked slowly in front of me. Mother and child moved out of my vision and I awoke.
It was before eight when I made my way up the stairs to the main level of the house. My parents were up already and preparing to leave for Truro, where they had an appointment to have their car inspected. I talked with them for a while before they left and then had some breakfast.
I crawled online and saw to my usual routine. I’m still adjusting to the complication of dial-up, but I really don’t mind as much now. I talked with Mandy for a while about books, weather and jobs before dropping offline to eat an early lunch.
When my parents returned in the afternoon they awoke me from a nap I’d been having and I was asked by my father to clear some snow with him. I happily did so, clearing my parents’ rather lengthy lane. When I was done I leaped a snow bank and headed into the woods behind the house.
I wrote before of the clear cutting that has been taking place in the forest behind my parents’ home. It was deeply troubling to me to see so much beautiful land made ugly and bare so needlessly, and it likely will be all my life. I love the beauty and life of forests greatly, and I feel very strongly about the need to preserve them and use their resources responsibly. Clear cutting does the exact opposite of what I believe, and I find it ugly.
When I broke from the path to where the forest used to be, I was met with a vast, empty, snow-covered field. It was a heartbreaking to see all of the forest gone, where some stands of trees had remained three months ago. I scanned the barren landscape and then noticed one tree was still standing ahead of me.
You may recall the great tree from that earlier entry about it and the clear cutting. It was a massive birch with branches the size of most other trees around it stretching out into the air. It was a beautiuful and holy tree that I loved from my early childhood. I remember it as strong and magical even when I last saw it standing amid other trees, an old beacon of natural life.
Today it stood lonely with many of its branches fallen and broken in a circle around it. Those dead limbs were half covered by white, white snow. However, it still had some limbs reaching upward to the sky, fingers reaching up to the moon to be rescued from the human tide. When I approached this tree, I noticed that the branches were actually covered in fresh buds. My life tree will stand and survive another season, whether because the clear cutters sensed its holiness, or because of some more mundane reason. It’s a resiliant tree, and I hope it will keep root for many years, as a beacon of defiance against all that is wrong with our abuse of this world.
After witnessing that uplifting discovery in the middle of terrible waste and ugliness, I thought of the deer in my dream. They would have been displaced by the clear cutting that had displaced hope in myself, and been made homeless by the destruction. How terrible it would be to lose a home in such a way. The deer of my dream may have been a warning, or perhaps a sign of hope. Maybe they were both. Looking back at the tree as I left, I thought I saw teeth marks on a low, half-budded branch.