A lot of my friends and family knew I had a thing about trees before March. But it was when I started talking about my trip to Muir Woods that they realized just how much I love trees. I’m obsessed with trees. I have favorite trees around my neighborhood. I leaned my head against the trunks of several redwoods. I maybe talked to a couple of them. I know lists of tree facts. Retro Christmas Tree Ornament, Retro Books Photo Ornaments, Bookshelf Car Pendant, Book Lovers ornament, Teacher Gifts, Student Gifts

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Mini Metal Table Top Decor, Tree and Woman Figure, Handcrafted Metal Decoration, Metal Table Decor, Women and Tree Sculpture, Home Deco Rustic Fall Wall Art Book Art Still Life Moody Wall Art Printable Vintage Autumn Oil Painting Dark Academia Bookshelf Decor Thanksgiving 220 I’ve always believed in inherited pain,” says Shafak. “It’s not scientific, perhaps, but things we cannot talk about easily within families do pass from one generation to the next, unspoken. In immigrant families, the older generation often wants to protect the younger from past sorrow, so they choose not to say much, and the second generation is too busy adapting, being part of the host country, to investigate. So it’s left to the third generation to dig into memory. I’ve met many third-generation immigrants who have older memories even than their parents. Their mothers and fathers tell them: ‘This is your home, forget about all that.’ But for them, identity matters.” Christmas Vintage Library Due Date Ornament, Librarian Ornament, Christmas Tree Decoration, Book Lover Gift, Lover Bookworm, 4 ShapesExplore our simple A-Z identification guide to the trees of Britain, from natives to naturalised and widely planted non-native species. You'll find images, tree descriptions and information on where you're likely to find them. Trees and woods play a vital role in reducing flooding by slowing down the flow of rainwater, absorbing rainwater, and reducing erosion. Her botanical reading, as her bibliography reveals, was extensive (Richard Mabey, Merlin Sheldrake, an academic article about the notion of “optimism” and “pessimism” in plants). In the novel, Kostas at one point buries his fig, the better to protect it from the British winter. “I’d heard that they could be buried,” says Shafak. “When I lived in Ann Arbor in Michigan, where it can be quite cold, I heard of Italian and Portuguese families doing this. I found out that it really works. You hide it safely beneath the ground for two months, and then, when the spring comes, you unbury it, and it’s a kind of miracle, because it’s alive.” Later, this unburying is mirrored by other, grimmer exhumations: those carried out by the Committee on Missing Persons in Cyprus, a bicommunal organisation that continues to try to find and identify the bodies of the civil war’s disappeared. If trees could talk, what might they tell us? “Well,” says the Turkish-British writer Elif Shafak, smiling at me over a cup of mint tea, her long hair a little damp from the rain. “They live a lot longer than us. So they see a lot more than we do. Perhaps they can help us to have a calmer, wiser angle on things.” In unison, we turn our heads towards the window. We’re both slightly anxious, I think, Shafak because she arrived for our meeting a tiny bit late, and me because this cafe in Holland Park is so noisy and crowded (we can’t sit outside because yet another violent summer squall has just blown in). A sycamore or horse chestnut-induced sense of perspective could be just what the pair of us need. Was London the obvious place to come? “Yes, it really was. I love this country. It’s so diverse, and I don’t take that for granted, because I come from a country that has never appreciated diversity. But I’ve also seen it change. Imagine it. I became a British citizen, and a few months later, Britain left the EU. I used to think British people were so calm when they talked about politics, but that calmness has gone. Brexit broke a strained system. There are many things that worry me, and one is that the language of politics is full of martial metaphors now. This talk of judges being the enemy of the people. It makes me freeze. These are dangerous signs. I’ve met some arrogant politicians. ‘Surely you’re not comparing the UK to Turkey,’ they say. No, I’m not saying that. But what has happened elsewhere can always happen here.”

ve always believed in inherited pain’ Novelist Elif Shafak: ‘I’ve always believed in inherited pain’

This vivid account of self-sufficiency at the outbreak of the second world war is a testament to the human capacity to keep going and keep hoping. The apples are vital to the Bells’ physical and spiritual survival: reminders of nature’s eternal, cyclical strength and pledges of future peace. The book is valuable, too, for the portrait of the infant Anthea Bell, who grew up to become famous as the translator of the Asterix books.Big Tree Mushroom, Hand Carved Sculpture, Rustic, Handmade, Sculpture, Ornament, Handmade Decor, Bookshelf, Nursery Decor, Christmas Gifts A protester in front of a poster of Shafak during a demonstration outside the court during September’s 2006 trial. Photograph: Mustafa Ozer/AFP/Getty Images It has stopped raining now, and the cafe is closing, so we go out into the fresh air. We’re heading in different directions, but she’s determined to walk me to the park gate. I notice what a good listener she is, her body angled towards mine confidingly. She is a very serious person. It’s not only that she regards it as her political duty to talk of such things as equality and diversity; she seems to relish doing so. But there’s a larky, student-ish side to her, too. Is it true that she loves heavy metal, I ask. Her gentleness seems a bit at odds with headbanging. “Oh, yes,” she says. “I’ve always loved it.” She lists several bands, none of which I’ve heard of. “I like all the sub-genres: industrial, viking…” While she’s working, she listens to the same song over and over, using headphones so her children don’t complain. Crikey. Can she concentrate? “Yes! That’s when I write best. I don’t like silence. It makes me nervous.” Somewhere in the distance, I hear the obliging roar of a motorbike.