The Tale of a Tree, a Boy and a Bike

This is a post in memory of my Grandmother (Nana) who passed away suddenly yesterday morning. She's been an ever-present source of energy, creativity and curiosity for me my whole life, and her death has left a hole in the world that I'll never be able to fill. My heart breaks when I think I won't have a chance to hear her stories, watch her paint or just sit with her in silence on her deck and watch the garden birds.

She had an insatiable appetite for knowledge and art. She left behind a wealth of poems, paintings and pages upon pages of family history that she collated and summarised. While it hurts so much to look at these things today, I'm so happy to have them to remember her by. She was an inspiration and a kindred spirit who I will miss every day,

She wrote the below poem last year after I'd started my blog. She's was my biggest supporter most interested reader. I have her to thank for my curiosity and love for travel, writing, nature and art. She was inspired by the attached picture of a bicycle suspended in a tree, and combined it with her memories of me as a child, to write the following beautiful story.

The Tale of a Tree, a Boy and a Bike.

When you were a little lad, roaming through the wood,

Did you lean your bike against a sapling for a minute, so you could

follow up a birdcall you had never heard before?

Did you stumble over undergrowth that carpeted the floor,

and as you stood and listened, trying to see the calling bird,

did you achieve your purpose? Did you see what you had heard?

Instead, did you suddenly remember that you had left your bike

Somewhere in the woodland? You had done quite a hike.

You had roamed around in circles as the bird had led you on

and now you had forgotten the places you had gone.

Did twilight fall upon you, did you finally run home

and tell your anxious parents that although you'd tried to comb

the tangled bushes, creepers, and confusing forest ways

you simply couldn't find your bike, you'd lost it in the maze

Of entangled, hostile jungle. You were so distressed

that rueful tears were streaming. Your parents were impressed.

Your Dad said, "Son, you've lost your bike, but you are safe and sound.

We'll go out in the morning, and take a look around.

Now cheer up son, I'll go with you, so now just go to sleep.

You learned a thing or two today. Be happy, do not weep."

Dad hugged you tight and whispered "You'll see your bike again."

So, comforted, you went to bed, but next day............ There was rain!

The weather changed, you could not go, it poured for days and days,

till the vacation ended, there were no more holidays.

You had to pack your bags and go, and leave the lonely bike.

Your Dad said, "Son, you came back safe, and what we really like

Is that you came and told us how you'd really, really tried.

to find the place you'd left it, to a sapling tied.......

Mum and I were talking about how much you've grown,

how independent you are, and how the time has flown.

So we have decided, since you have got so tall,

to get a bigger bike for you! It's waiting in the hall!"

So they left the little bike, to gather moss and rust

Still tethered to the sapling, which grew, as grow it must.

And thirty years went by before you came again

to that beautiful old forest where you had searched in vain.

Suddenly you saw it, way above your head.

The faithful tree had held it, as if it had said,

"I'll keep your cycle safely, now you've left it in my care,

come back one day to fetch it, you will find it here ;

but I have come to love it, it is part of me today."

So you just took a photo… Said goodbye, and came away.

As you walked slowly away, I wonder if you heard

the call, the haunting, mocking call of that mysterious bird?

Ruth Magaret Fairlamb. 1933 -2017

I love you Nana. I will miss you so much and I cannot wait to see you again. Thank you for being you. xxxx

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