We wrote philosophies, built faiths and took every kind of comfort from trees. They gave language to our existence as we put down roots, stretched our limbs, budded in infancy and were felled in old age. They were mute companions to our lives and worshipped beyond themselves as the better part of balance and aspiration. They offered steadiness and long patience even as we failed in those. They were meeting points and sites of rough justice. They gave the idea and supplied the material for shelter. They offered an image of completion, which was an illusion, but enough. Theirs was a whisper in the wind to the human ear both tragic and hopeful. Civilisation grew from exploiting, destroying, venerating and looking back on them. Trees led us to ourselves and we stood against them, trunk to trunk, arms upon branches, our thoughts tangled in the stars.
from: The Tree in Changing Light by Roger MacDonald (Random House, Sydney, 2001, pp. 153-169)
Ghaf tree Prosopis cineraria, Evolvement expedition to the UAE.
Take this Ghaf tree (Prosopis cineraria) I found on a journey in the UAE. It survives in the fiercest climate with roots down 30 metres indicating water. Providing relief for people and camels alike.