Nature is, red rock stacked high.
Nature is, the crush of fallen leaves underfoot.
Nature is, a hand pulling putty out of a wall.
And nature is the black and yellow bees hovering about the spiky red flowers of a pohutakawa bloom on a low bush.
Nature is dirt.
Nature is fire and smoke.
Nature is sunshine, dew, the miracle of cicadas and the sweet scent of blossom.
Wood is warm, tough and still. Sometimes it flies. It pushes constant going up and outward, getting bigger over time – time bigger than ours.
Wood is useful and peaceful. (In fact, when I think of my element wood I feel a little intimidated! Because I will die before the tree does).
My element reminds me of silence. On a stormy night, my element rocks with whispering, moaning, screams, shrieks and knocks.
This element has the power to heal, to shelter us and the animals, to feed the small aliens (they are the insects), and to do everything else you can think of from a malleable permanent substance.
My element on the main behaves quietly. It’s quite clever really, because it can hide you.
Wood feels the filth of yards of dirt, the hardness of stone. It feels the wind bending it and the delight of water feeding it. When we cut it, it dies.
I have no idea what the element thinks about and cares about, apparently it cares about itself and it don’t bother thinking much. But if you see how persistent and universal it is, you’d admit that it’s quite smart – it puts itself places where you and I can’t climb, and grows there. It makes itself obvious by being right in front of us every day. If you haven’t seen it then I’m really sorry.
Wood splits the metal from the earth and drinks all the water. It eats all the air and don’t go close to fire, the fire is the end of its peace of mind.