Tree Talkers
We’ve all heard about tree huggers, right? Well, what about tree talkers? Even crazier? Yep, that’s me now. Though if I’m honest, it’s always been me.
I often wondered: can trees really talk to us? This question became real the day I met a tree named Elbow, an encounter that shaped one of my Inktally limited edition tree art prints.
A Haunting Memory
I remember watching an episode of The Twilight Zone that has stayed with me ever since. A “mad” scientist invents a machine that can turn the energy waves of plants into sound. And when trees or leaves were scratched, some of them screamed in pain. It was haunting. And yet, instead of dismissing it as fantasy, I found myself nodding along, because deep down I’d always believed it could be true.
What My Dad Taught Me
My dad had taught me and my sister when we were kids that trees could hear us. That belief never really left me. Sometimes I buried it, let it drift to the back of my mind — the place where the raw and magical parts of life go to hide — but it was always there.
Meeting Elbow
Until I met Elbow.
I like to think I gave him that name, but sometimes I suspect he placed it in my mind when we first met. I had been walking past him for two years without ever noticing. Was I too lost in thought? (maybe). Or did he only reveal himself when I was ready? (most likely).
One morning he just appeared in my peripheral vision. Bent in such a peculiar way, I couldn’t ignore him. I stopped, curious. I wondered how he’d grown like that — and more importantly, why. I came up with plenty of logical, biological theories, but the story I preferred was the metaphorical one: that he had overcome some great struggle, and now stood proud, right in everyone’s way, as a symbol of defiance and strength.
Touching the Tree
I was so drawn to him that I had to touch him. I placed my hand on his elbow, leaned my forehead against his trunk. At first I felt unsteady, then realised: he was swaying. Not side to side like a normal tree, but up and down, like waves. And as he moved, calm washed over my whole body.
I stood there for what felt like an hour. Then I thanked him, three times, and walked away. From that day on, it became my morning practice, to say hello and place my forehead on Elbow Tree.
When He Began to Speak
And then something shifted.
He began talking to me. Not with an audible voice, but telepathically, through my mind. He gave me reassurance about my worries, sometimes solutions to my problems, always kindness. And I always thanked him.
A Request in Return
One morning, after many weeks of this, I pressed my forehead to him as usual, expecting guidance. He gave it, but then added something new.
“Now you’ve taken a lot from me,” he said, “and I’ve been happy to give. But now I must ask you for something in return.”
“Of course,” I replied, eager to help a being that had given me so much.
“Please tell the world not to forget about us. Me, my sisters, my brothers. Our world is being abused.”
I said “okay” instantly. But as I walked away, I realised I didn’t have a clue how I was going to do it. How could I possibly speak for him?
The Answer Was Art
And then I realised: this is what my art is for.
It’s not just decoration, or colour, or words on paper. It’s a bridge. A way to turn what I hear and feel into something others can see. If Elbow and his kind are asking us not to forget, then my work must carry that message: that the living world is speaking to us all the time, if only we’re quiet enough to listen. This is why tree symbolism in art appears so often in my work, it’s how I translate what I hear from the natural world into something you can hold.
So what does Elbow want us to do?
He wants us to remember. To notice. To slow down. To re-enchant what we’ve forgotten. To put our hands on bark, to say thank you, to treat trees not as background but as kin.He wants us to carry their voices into the world in whatever way we can. Mine is through art, because that’s the only language I know how to speak fluently. Yours might be different. Maybe it’s planting, maybe it’s storytelling, maybe it’s as simple as acknowledging the tree you pass every single day. It doesn’t need to be loud. It just needs to be honest.And why does Elbow want us to remember?
Because forgetting is the root of harm. When we forget trees are alive, aware, and giving, we treat them like scenery instead of beings. Remembering restores relationship. It brings us back into kinship. It makes us pause before we cut, before we take, before we dismiss. Remembering means we carry them forward, into our choices, our children, our future.And what will this do for you?
It will change the way you walk through the world. When you remember, you begin to feel accompanied instead of alone. You feel grounded, calmer, less frantic. You notice beauty in places you’d ignored. You carry gratitude in your body, and gratitude is medicine. When you remember the trees, they remember you too, and maybe one day, like Elbow, one will even speak back.Want to Start?
Maybe this is where Elbow’s message becomes yours too.
If you feel called, go find a tree near you this week. It doesn’t have to be ancient or grand, even the one at the end of your street will do. Place your hand on its bark. Pause long enough to notice what happens in your body. Maybe you’ll feel nothing at first. Maybe you’ll feel steadier. Maybe you’ll feel watched over.
If you’re brave, press your forehead against it and whisper a thank you.
Then see if you notice anything different as you walk away.
This is how remembering begins: small, honest moments of connection. One tree at a time.