Today’s Post Is a Tree Love Story 🌲

About time spent with the ancient Fortingall Yew in Scotland

Some believe this ancient standing one is 9,000 years old...

My last post was a little heavy for me. As I was sitting, thinking about what I could write to lighten my heart, I happened upon Neil Oliver’s latest episode in his wonderful series “Love Letter to the British Isles.” It’s titled “it’s seen it all, literally,” and so I didn’t know where he was adventuring to until I started to listen.

Well, my heart about jumped out of my chest when I heard Neil mention the Fortingall Yew. Immediately, I was back in Scotland, sitting alone in the rain with this precious ancient wonder of Mother Nature.

Don’t worry, I’ll share Neil’s video at the end of this post.

It was October 11, 2018, and I had returned to Scotland for the third time, spending a week driving around with a friend. I’d never heard of this tree, but somehow we found our way to her.

On this, my third trip to Scotland, I had been determined to stay somewhere where there were more trees. On my first trip I saw lots of barren hills and munros (mountains over 3,000 feet) in the Highlands and on the Western Isles. The second time I was there, I stayed in a seaside town on the south shore of the Firth of Forth. Beautiful though both trips were, they left me pondering “where are all the trees in Scotland?”

And so, on my third trip, I got out a map of the country and looked for Green. I settled on The Trossachs National Park area and we found a rental in the little town of Aberfoyle in the county of Perthshire and the council area of Stirling.

Trees galore, waterfalls, lochs, and even a faerie hill just down the road from us.

My friend and I had happened upon a little shop not far from us that peeked our curiosity and so we stopped and went inside.

The owner of the shop nodded at us but was otherwise silent and a bit mysterious. When I went to the counter to make a purchase, she reached into a jar on the counter, pulled out a dragonfly charm, and handed it to me, saying that I should have it. Coincidentaly (or not), the dragonfly is hanging on a chain around my neck as I type this.

I thanked her and said goodbye. She was looking at me oddly and said that I should go to the Doon Faerie Hill in Aberfoyle, which we found out later, was a stone’s throw from our rental. She didn’t say why, just that I should go there.

Evidently, Aberfoyle is the faerie capital of Scotland! If you know me, you know that yes, I do believe in faeries! :)

Well, we hiked up the hill and, of course, it was misty and near dark. What can I say. To this day, it gives me goosebumps

Doon Faerie Hill

But, I digress. This post was supposed to be about the Fortingall Yew. We drove a bit over an hour to Glen Lyon, Fortingall, Perthshire to see this tree, purported by some to be 9,000 years old, in which case it would be the oldest living thing/being in Europe!

As you’ll hear from Neil, the Yew’s age is challenged by some (the sign at the site says 5,000 years), but I’m with him in believing that it’s true.

We were hungry when we arrived at the little churchyard where the Fortingall Yew lives and so we had lunch in the sweetest cafe next to the church before we made our way to visit the tree.

Ok, it’s showtime! The Yew sits in a corner of the graveyard, protected by a wall. It wasn’t always so, but we were told that vandals had changed that. Imagine vandalizing an ancient tree. I can’t even.

We were alone, there was a gentle misting rain, and as I peered over the wall, I felt my heart explode. Yes, I cried. My friend didn’t seem as wowed as I was and after awhile, she made her way back to the car to get out of the rain.

Nothing makes me happier than to be alone in Nature, especially when there’s a tree involved. I just sat and sat and sat with her. In all her ancient glory.

She’s not a massive tree, like some of the photos you see of other old soul trees. But, boy did wisdom ever ooze out of her.

My hand was resting on the ledge of the wall and I noticed that there were some loose needles that had fallen off of the Yew. Yes, I took them. Just a few. Please don’t chastise me. They’re safe in a little pouch along with a few Hawthorn berries that somehow made their way into my pocket while in Ireland.

And now, I’ll leave you to enjoy listening to Neil reverently talk about the Fortingall Yew in his wonderful series, “Love Letter to the British Isles.” I guarantee that his Scottish accent will be easier on your ears than my Midwestern American one!

Thank you, Neil, for sending me down memory lane. The Fortingall Yew and Scotland are forever planted in my heart.

Much Love,
Barbara