I Love Yew
Rewilding History
This Christmas, I was very pleased to receive two pens: a slimline pen but, most especially, a new fountain pen. Both are wooden and handmade. As a celebrant authorised to conduct legal marriage and civil partnership, the simple fountain pen is a crucial part of my kit: when filled with black indelible ink, it is used in the ceremony to sign the all-important legal paperwork.
I love the sustainable quality of wooden items, but also the connection to nature. There are few things that I find more peaceful and restorative than immersing myself in a woodland or forest. As the naturalist and environmental philosopher John Muir once said, “the clearest way into the universe is through a forest wilderness.”
Trees are magical. This is one of the reasons I am glad that Celebrate People support Trees for Life, the rewilding charity dedicated to preserving what’s left of and regenerating, the ancient Caledonian Forest.
There is deeper meaning to these particular pens for me. Although I’m based in Glasgow now, I grew up in a small village in the west coast of Scotland, one of a network of villages from the Gare Loch to Loch Long which make up the Rosneath peninsula.
One of my neighbouring villages is Rosneath itself, in which once stood a magnificent line of yew trees. Although just six remain these days, it is thought that originally there were twenty four of them that together created an avenue linking the now-demolished Clachan House to St Modan’s Church.
Over the years the site of St Modan’s has housed at least four churches. Exactly when the first one was built is not known, but the construction of the second dates all the way back the 12th century.
This area and the trees within it are an important part of the village and, indeed, the peninsulas’ history.
Earlier this year, a bough of one of the remaining trees was severed, torn off by the forces of nature during Storm Jocelyn. Villagers quickly came together to consider what could be done with the piece that fell. The thinking was it could be transformed into something new, which could be sold. The proceeds would then go into the local community, specifically to the Princess Louise Hall Charity who are hoping to restore the community centre that closed some years ago after it fell into disrepair.
A worthy cause: anyone who has lived in a village knows that the community centre or village hall is at its heart. The head of the charity is Maggie Irving, who also happens to be a local wood turner, so when the branch came down, she knew that this sad news could also be a fitting opportunity. Maggie handcrafted the pens that I received from the branch of the yew tree.
At around three hundred and seventy five years old, this particular tree seems ancient to us humans, but by yew tree standards is relatively young. It’s said that the oldest yew in the UK could be up to five thousand years old. They are fascinating trees due to the way they grow; their ability to regenerate from both its trunk and its branches means even seemingly decaying trees can recover. Their branches grow downward, creating new roots as they reach the ground, older life promoting new.
New roots that grow can create lines in the trunk that are discernible, but they all part of the one tree - a bit like communities. Yews are trees of juxtaposition, containing life-saving qualities: they are used in medicine and have anti-cancer compounds that have been carefully developed for use in cancer treatment. At the same time all but a small fleshy part of the berry is highly poisonous, even fatal, to humans. It is perhaps not surprising that in folklore the yew tree is a paradoxical symbol of death and of longevity, ever-lasting life and rebirth.
It strikes me that this symbolism of the yew tree is reflected in these pens. The tree’s presence and importance in the community over hundreds of years, the death of the branch, followed by rebirth, not only for the wood, but hopefully for the community too. The tree itself still stands and will continue to live most likely long into the future, a symbol of longevity.
I look forward to using this pen to mark new beginnings for couples, while being wee connection to my own roots. It feels like a full circle moment and a reminder that story-telling, spirituality and meaning can be found anywhere. Even in a seemingly simple fountain pen. Thanks, mum!
*Editors note: Such a lovely debut piece by Sarah that we couldn’t wait until 2025 to share it. You can contact Sarah via her website or Celebrate People. Links are above.*
What an inspiring story. I’d love one of those pens too so if there is a link you could add where people like me could contact the maker, please can you add it? If not, you know where to find me…