The Sacred Almond Tree

Dominion, Volume 31, Issue 142, 12 March 1938, Page 9 (Supplement)

The Sacred Almond Tree

TT stands in its dragon-paintd pot beneath the old bronze idol, which squats so impassively upon its shelf—my treasured almond tree —as fragrant as the day I received it with the blessing of a slant-eyed priest in far-away Japan. Such a delicate plant it is, with each pale blossom filling the room with Oriental memories, and each fragile branch beckoning wistfully to the geishagirls on the wallpaper. Several years ago it stood with a similar tree at the entrance of some holy shrine. Silken garments brushed past it as a silent-footed worshipper mounted the worn steps, yet to-day, many thousands of miles away, it is my personal link with the Orient.

“Take with our prayers,” the old priest had said in his sing-song voice, “this sacred almond tree. So that our memories may be bound together. Each year when the buds begin to burst we will direct out thoughts across the ocean. If our trees flourish all is well, but if our thoughts die they also will die. But wherever you may be, you shall remember.”

Yes, I have always remembered. When the almond blossoms unfold I am transplanted to the shrine of an Eastern god. Even as I stand in reverence before my tree I look up to see an old bronze idol grinning wickedly ,at me. Does he, too, remember? I have often wondered. —Tess (15), Levin.