Lawrence liked to write beneath his book trees

BANKSY’S new mock-foliage, tree-art, street-art statement, in Finsbury, reminds us poignantly of the lost Earth and Tree-respecting Wisdom which DH Lawrence so admirably helps us rediscover.

Trees have been our “greatest natural benefactors”, writes human ecologist Paul Shepard.

And, in Future Primitive, Dolores Lachapelle says: “In all of nature, Lawrence’s most intimate relationships were with trees.”

Lawrence’s sister Ada recalls the fun they had as children playing around the great ash tree on Eastwood’s Walker Street.

Although winter winds made branches shriek, slash and lash like whips, as Lawrence’s Discord

In Childhood records.

The trees Lawrence loved helped heal him as he recovered from near-fatal pneumonia in 1901. Jessie Chambers’ father urged “Bert” walk “through the Warren”, take deep breaths, fill his lungs with the scent “o’ them pine trees”.

He thrived on their beneficial negative ions.

Of preference Lawrence wrote outdoors, sitting with his back to trees. He wrote The Fox beneath an apple tree in England, Dolores notes. The Lost Girl, a lemon tree in Italy. Bavarian firs gave birth to Fantasia and Aaron’s Rod.

Mexican willow trees brought forth The Plumed Serpent. Lawrence’s beloved pine tree at Taos produced St Mawr, The Woman Who Rode Away and Pan In America. Italian umbrella pines aroused Lady Chatterley. A Swiss pear tree inspired The Man Who Died.

Lawrence believed he’d haunt the woods of Ebersteinberg, his aids to writing, when he died. “I can’t leave these trees. They have taken some of my soul.”

■100 YEARS AGO, on April 7, 1924, Lawrence asks Willard Johnson about “important” Indian dances “at San Filipe or Santa Dominga” over Easter, they might attend.

On the 8th, he informs Harriet Monroe they find Taos “very pleasant again” and “very beautiful”, the “raging spirits” being “somewhat soothed”. Frieda’s “calming down” following “the depressing swirl of Europe”, Miss Brett’s “blissfully happy” riding Bessie. Lawrence thanks “whatever gods there be” that the pristine spirit of place is preserved, despite “us awful whites with our machines”. There’s lots of room should Harriet visit.

On the 10th, Baroness Anna’s postcard depicts Indians dancing at Taos Pueblo – “We know them all,” Lawrence says. They’re “glad we’re back”. Your “daughter is lady-of-themanor and very proud”. Lawrence informs Mark Gertler Frieda’s “puffed up” to own “160 acres”, “log cabins”, “pine trees”. Brett’s “thrilled” – “rides like an Amazon in a cowboy hat”!

Has niece “Peggy” received “the rug sent from New York?” “Aunt Frieda” has “her own” ranch. “Lads” dance for them, “just like” the “boys” on Peggy’s postcard. They’re happy hearing “Indians’ drums”, Willian Siebenhaar learns.

The trees Lawrence loved helped heal him as he recovered from near-fatal pneumonia in 1901