How Trees Walk

"How Trees Walk" is a philosophical tale by Leo Tolstoy that explores the deep connection between humanity and nature. Through a whimsical narrative, the story revolves around the idea of how trees, often seen as stationary and silent, possess their own form of life and agency. Tolstoy delves into themes of growth, resilience, and the interconnectedness of all living things, encouraging readers to reflect on their relationship with the natural world. The narrative serves as a gentle reminder of the wisdom found in nature and the importance of observing and honoring its wonders.

								
One day we were cleaning an overgrown path on a hillock near the pond.
We cut down a lot of brier bushes, willows, and poplars,--then came the
turn of a bird-cherry. It was growing on the path, and it was so old and
stout that it could not be less than ten years old. And yet I knew that
five years ago the garden had been cleaned. I could not understand how
such an old bird-cherry could have grown out there. We cut it down and
went farther. Farther away, in another thicket, there grew a similar
bird-cherry, even stouter than the first. I looked at its root, and saw
that it grew under an old linden. The linden with its branches choked
it, and it had stretched out about twelve feet in a straight line, and
only then came out to the light, raised its head, and began to blossom.

I cut it down at the root, and was surprised to find it so fresh, while
the root was rotten. After we had cut it down, the peasants and I tried
to pull it off; but no matter how much we jerked at it, we were unable
to drag it away: it seemed to have stuck fast. I said:

"Look whether it has not caught somewhere."

A workman crawled under it, and called out:

"It has another root; it is out on the path!"

I walked over to him, and saw that it was so.

Not to be choked by the linden, the bird-cherry had gone away from
underneath the linden out on the path, about eight feet from its former
root. The root which I had cut down was rotten and dry, but the new one
was fresh. The bird-cherry had evidently felt that it could not exist
under the linden, so it had stretched out, dropped a branch to the
ground, made a root of that branch, and left the other root. Only then
did I understand how the first bird-cherry had grown out on the road. It
had evidently done the same,--only it had had time to give up the old
root, and so I had not found it.
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