No known copies of the contract still exist, but the terms of the pact are still being honored. Trees produce oxygen for humans to breathe, and humans produce carbon dioxide for trees in return. The exchange is vital for the survival of each, but neither party spends much time talking about it. As we are both made of water and rooted in a world of fire, there is much more to survive.
A cannonball to the trunk is survivable. Any number of trees near Civil War battlefields absorbed errant shots and grew to close the wounds around them, taking to the projectile like a cheek to hard candy. Eventually the trees were brought down by lightning or condo developments and the cocooning spheres of ill will discovered.
A bolt of lightning is survivable. A bolt of lightning can even be charitable. One after another, there are documented cases of people being struck by lightning who subsequently developed an obsession to compose music on the piano, or to make art. Tonka bean trees in the Panama rainforest are measurably benefited by lightning strikes. The lightning strips away parasitic vines and wipes out nearby trees competing for otherwise limited resources. Their wood is used for furniture and musical instruments.
A volcano is not always survivable. Mount Etna, whose name means The Burning One, is Europe’s most active volcano. It has been recognized in myth and popular culture as the seat of divine anger, and as such, nothing above the tree line has survived.
Something has survived. There is a road which winds up the eastern slope of Mount Etna. It follows the contours of ancient lava flows, forking time and again like a network of choices, obliging pause in every traveler and the horse they rode in on. The road is called Tongue of Tongues, and where it licks at a scorched tree line, it tells a story.
For there, at the top of the road, stands the oldest known chestnut tree in the world. When Christ was born in Bethlehem, the tree was already 2,000 years old. The world’s oldest chestnut is also the largest. It has managed to survive no fewer than 186 volcanic eruptions. Perhaps surviving 40 centuries in proximity to humans is the bigger miracle. If the tree is ever reduced to a stump, they will be able to park two buses atop it, filled with well-fed tourists.
The Chestnut Tree of One Hundred Horses gets its name from a famous legend. In the 13th century, Queen Joanna of Aragon — a kingdom occupying modern day Spain — was traveling through the area with an entourage of 100 knights. The queen and her men were suddenly caught in a severe thunderstorm. It is told that the entire company, on horseback, took refuge under the tree.
Do you know what rain does to a suit of armor? Imagine being one of those hundred sheltered knights, dry and marveling inside a curtain of rain all around, seeing the same thought reflected in faces of your fellow company — that the God who terrorizes with volcanoes and infuriates with thunderstorms is also the God who opened an umbrella in just your size.
Top image: Engraved illustration of the Chestnut Tree of One Hundred Horses from Popular Science monthly, circa 1872 (public domain)