A few days ago, our very own Professor Dr E.G. emailed to the class some photos she took of the spring flora at Oxford, which were very pretty indeed. I especially liked the photos of the willow trees, taken at different times in the spring season. This thumbnail shows one willow by the river which was just stirring to life after the British winter.
I have always been quite partial to willow trees. They are beautiful to draw and photograph, and every picture of a willow tree seems to tell a story. It was also the first tree that I learned about (yes, even before the angsana and frangipani in primary science textbooks) - in fact, at the same time that I learnt to write my name. At age 4, as mom held my hand to put my Chinese name on the front cover of my kindergarten exercise books, she said that the Willow 杨 (yang), was one of the four great trees of China. (Later on I learnt that the others are the Bamboo 竹 , the Pine 松 and the Lotus 莲, which together with the Willow, symbolized different virtues extolled by the Chinese).Later in life, I discovered that God chose to to include in it some of the most poignant verses in biblical literature:
'By the rivers of Babylon we sat down and wept when we remembered Zion. There on the willow-trees we hung up our harps.' - Psalm 137
Yes, the willow is often seen as a symbol of grief. There are some who therefore find it too sorrowful to be a tree of life. But in its hanging branches, strength grows. In its bitter bark, the miracle of healing is found. It will always be found near rivers of water, and though its blossoms are imperceptible to the eye, it endures when other plants fade.
And then recently, I found another new and remarkable thing about the willow. The harps which the defeated Israealites hung on the willow tree, were in fact made from the solid willow wood! Joy came literally from Sorrow!
Take down your harp from the willow tree
Bottle the tears at the end of the yews
Let the living waters beside run free
Over the stones which sing their tune.
They who hung up their harps lost
We whose strings are mended Hope see
So let the songs of joy not be silent
Take down your harp from the willow tree.
