Thoughts

The Giving Tree Reimagined

By Heidi Torreiter, Registered Horticultural Therapist

When my husband and I had our first child we were given, amongst so many other classic books for young children, a copy of  Shel Silverstein’s beloved 1962 picture book, The Giving Tree. I had not read it as a child, so my first time reading it was as an adult and perhaps that is why I so quickly became uncomfortable with its message. In the story, the maternal tree cares for a young boy who seemingly loves her and is very attached to her as a child. As he grows up he visits her less, only returning periodically over his life to ask her for parts of herself, which she willingly sacrifices. He is never satisfied, increasingly unhappy, until all that is left of her is a stump, which he uses to sit. He feels no remorse, and also no happiness. The tree is happy to give.

As a mother of young children, elbows-deep in thankless giving, but with profound gratitude as an adult for my own late mother, I was angry that this one-directional relationship between the tree and child, even as he aged, made the tree happy. The message in this reading is that a parent should be happy to give everything until there’s nothing left of them.

But wait, it gets more uncomfortable. As a horticultural therapist with a deep appreciation for the sacredness of the human-nature relationship, it also felt like a perfect allegory for how humans have taken from the earth, insatiable, never grateful, one-directional. But this final message of the tree being happy seems to direct the reader to close the book and feel happy. The tree happily gave, what a lovely tree, the end. 

I just can’t do that. Perhaps because I am part of a much more lovely version of this story. It is called The Garden. 

I work as a horticultural therapist in The Guelph Enabling Garden (but for these musings we’ll just call her The Garden). The Garden is an interactive public therapeutic garden, created by the community over twenty years ago, with accessibility as a priority, for all people to engage with the plants using the senses they have available.  This garden relies on human nurturing in many realms – physical, emotional, social, vocational, and financial – for serving the intended purpose as an accessible, therapeutic garden. The humans rely on The Garden in these same realms. We have become entangled and entwined.  Humans are living elements of The Garden the same as trees, beavers, birds, insects, the river. We thrive and suffer and change together. We affect each other. We continually exchange wonder, nourishment, joy, gratitude, love. 

Currently the non-profit human board of directors in charge of The Garden’s financial care is facing funding struggles. When I imagine this garden without the people as active, bi-directional participants, The Giving Tree allegories are coming to mind. 

Would The Garden continue to support plants and wildlife, insects, birds and humans if the guiding Board of Directors and the money they work hard to find dried up? Of course. But the magic worthy of a timeless children’s story that grounds moral pillars for a good life would be lost, and that is worth something invaluable. 

I am honoured to be part of this magic countless times a day and can say with certainty it’s not the same everywhere else because I try to spark it elsewhere and sometimes it falls flat. In The Garden I will often join someone who is engaged in a curious moment with a plant or other element of the garden, a beautiful exchange of wonder and awe already in progress that I will never tire of experiencing. In The Garden, inviting myself into these moments has never once fallen flat.  In fact, when the wonder and awe is shared it grows. 

There’s evidence to support that these moments of connection in the garden are good for us all. The Harvard Study of Adult Development — one of the most cited studies in modern psychology and arguably the longest-running longitudinal study on human wellbeing— tells us people who are more connected to family, friends, and community live longer, stay mentally sharper, and report greater life satisfaction. Connection (my favorite word in the English language) in the study encompasses deep intimacy but also the exchanges of daily social contact — the chat at the bus stop about the weather, the friendly exchange with the store clerk, the shared marveling at a flower in The Garden. 

Another point of evidence supporting this connection is how humans feel when we spend time actually noticing nature. Research from a group led by University of Derby’s Miles Richardson tells us that what most improves our wellbeing isn't how long we spend in nature, but whether we actually notice it — a single moment of genuine attention to a bee or a flower or the smell of rain is enough to shift something in us. 

The final point comes from Dacher Keltner at UC Berkeley whose findings has built a significant body of work specifically on everyday awe like the moments I witness in The Garden: awe is reliably and frequently triggered by nature more than almost any other source. It produces a temporary quieting of the ego, reduces inflammatory markers, increases prosocial behaviour, and shifts people toward feeling part of something larger than themselves. 

Where else do all these experiences exist together - connection, noticing, awe? This really explains why there’s magic in The Garden!

I cannot write children’s stories but I know there are many humans who are part of The Garden organism who can, and I am asking for you to hold the magic of The Garden in your most loving, creative place and rewrite The Giving Tree for The Garden. 

References

Keltner, D. (2023). Awe: The new science of everyday wonder and how it can transform your life. Penguin Press.

Martin, L., White, M. P., Hunt, A., Richardson, M., Pahl, S., & Burt, J. (2020). Nature contact, nature connectedness and associations with health, wellbeing and pro-environmental behaviours. Journal of Environmental Psychology, 68, 101389.

Silverstein, S. (1964). The giving tree. Harper & Row. 

Waldinger, R. J., & Schulz, M. S. (2023). The good life: Lessons from the world's longest scientific study of happiness. Simon & Schuster.