The tree has a big eye inside of it. Laying in bed for days on end, staring at the winter landscape outside as I nursed my baby, the tree became like the clouds on a day where the wind barely moves. It shifted, ever so slightly, day by day, yet stayed the same. My eyes paired up with my imagination and discovered endless shapes and characters, but one kept returning: The all-seeing eye.

Even now, a year later, it takes me a while to find the eye. In summer when soft, green needles cover its limbs and it stretches out towards all directions it is less stark, but still there, watching.

The tree is a raggedy tree, different from all the others. It is wild and fearless in its shape. I know it is protecting the area, overseeing all with its watchful eye.

The other day I saw lightning crash down in line with the tree, not touching it, but shaping itself right behind it. It was that same wild shape smashing down from the sky in a quick instant, a contrast to the tree growing slowly upwards from the ground.

Curiosity creeped in once and for all when I saw that same tree elsewhere and heard they would cut it down. I could not help myself, so I gathered cones lying on the ground beneath it, determined to one day figure out what to do with them. You see, this tree is somewhat rare where I live. I have only met the two and have yet to find a third. It is also different from the others who grow needles and cones making it a rarity in more ways than one.

After I met the second of its kind I found those who had lived in the area my bedroom window looks out upon for longer than me. I found those who had been here for over three decades and could tell me a story. It seemed a quicker and more interesting way to learn about the tree than any online surfing ever could.

A neighboring man had wanted to cut the larch tree down many years ago, but his wife stood her ground and demanded it remain. The compromise was a trimming of all the branches up to the half way point. As wild as the top half is, the older bottom must have been even wilder!

What is also interesting is that it loses all the green in winter becoming the only naked tree in a family of evergreens.

Now I was ready for the internet. I told you earlier about the eye and the feeling of protection emanating from the tree. This was something I felt after weeks of staring at it, wondering who and what this tree was and which story it had to tell and what life it leads. A quick pairing of 'larch' with 'metaphysical' and 'myth' led me to stories the sciences often omit and lo and behold, the tree was mentioned as being one that protects.

Is it not beautiful, what we can discover when we ask out into the world and listen without searching? It makes me wonder if the stories are true, that there is some knowledge or knowing we all have access to when we listen, then listen a bit more, and listen again. Is there something that only happens when we pay attention to the same thing for a long time and ask, quietly, like we would a wise elder, and wait with patience for the answer to come?

I barely dare to say it, because it would make the world more wonderful than I believe it is, but I think there is. How strange to feel a tinge of fear inside of me as I consider, once again, that what we call magic might be real.