As a child I had a strong bond to nature, but it wasn’t one that was talked about, it was just a connection that I felt deeply rooted in my soul. I loved climbing trees, though I am afraid of heights - or did this come later?... I knew that the trees would hold me and keep me safe, it was a relationship so natural that I haven’t ever thought about it being a bond or giving a name to the instinctual feeling.
My favourite tree is still the pōhutukawa - a New Zealand native, part of the myrtle family (not that I had ever considered it being a part of a wider family before getting into horticulture). My connection with this tree goes beyond this scientific view, and to Māori, the tree represents so much more than its binomial name (Metrosideros excelsa) can describe - it spiritually connects the beginning and ending of human life. I can relate to this spiritual relationship; my childhood spent gripping, slipping and clambering all over the gnarled limbs of these magnificent trees. They are the silhouette of most beaches where I grew up, so we didn’t need a playground to invent adventures of exploration and wonder - the trees guided us across tightropes and stood as craggy mountains waiting to be climbed.
Not only do they line the coastline of beaches across the North Island, pōhutukawa clasp to cliff faces, too. Their tough roots hold together eroding cliffs that would have slipped away years before, had it not been for the loyal trees that held them together. Pōhutukawa represent strength and resilience, growing in harsh conditions that experience Mother Nature at her most extreme.
Come November, pōhutukawa blossom a bold red - the flower representing the blood of a young Maōri warrier, Tawhaki, who fell to earth from the sky. The flowers are also the picture of a classic Kiwi christmas, blooming from November through the New Zealand summer time. Growing up, my sister and I were often tasked with creating a table display of flowers and forgagings for Christmas day by my Mum, who loves all New Zealand native flora and fauna. We would take to the garden, ducking under branches and winding through the grass to the pōhutukawa tree, where we would carefully snip a couple of flowers and leaves to add to the table.
It wasn't until 2020 that I found a name for this bond I have with nature - biophilia, human's innate need to connect with nature and the earth. For me, the pōhutukawa is so much more than a tree. It is a playground, a place of strength and spirituality, somewhere to hide and cry and laugh, a home and a sense of belonging. I have not felt its rippled bark in years now, but I know that when I do it will be like saying hello to an old friend
