Between Trees and Peaks

At the edge of my orchard, where the land slopes towards the valley and the view in front seems wider than elsewhere, I find myself facing a question that is less about choice and more about feelings. In the distance during clear winter days, which are quite frequent here, I can enjoy a panoramic view of snow covered Himalayan peaks. It is a sight that feels both timeless and majestic. On some days, they seem to lean in a lot closer and that keeps me mesmerized. The question I keep asking myself – should I thicken the northern area of my orchard and garden with more trees (the area with a view of the snow-peaks), filling the space with fruit and shade, or should I leave it open so that each winter the snow peaks stand clear against the horizon? These are decisions in life that are not about right or wrong but about what kind of beauty we wish to live with.

Within the orchard itself I have already planted generously. Fruit trees are intermingled with forest trees, and among them rise tall oaks, hollies, alders, rhododendrons, and conifers. These trees are more than companions. They act as wind barriers. In summer strong gusts sweep through the valley with enough force to topple heavy metal chairs or tear roofs from homes. The trees that stand tall in front absorb that force and shelter the orchard and house alike but at the cost of the open view before me.

It is not only my own dilemma. I once asked my followers on social media whether they would choose trees or an unobstructed view. Most voted for trees, which I take as a hopeful sign. People are slowly waking up to the fact that we need more and more trees. Yet I also sense that this conviction wavers when personal comfort is at stake. Guests who visit often remark on the tall trees that rise into the sightline. Some gently advise me to lop or coppice them in order to restore what they call the beautiful panoramic view. On asking my neighbours, most advice on having tall trees, yet everyone seems to be longing for an open view in front when it comes to their own personal properties.

But my own heart leans towards the trees. A dense canopy shields against wind, filters the air and creates a retreat that feels hidden away from the world. The south side of my place is managed differently. There I keep fewer trees and most are deciduous, so that when they shed their leaves the low winter sun can spill warmth onto the house and the lawn. Between these two aspects, dense northern canopy and lighter southern edge, I find balance. And within the trees themselves I prefer natural windows, gaps in the canopy that let the snow peaks show through, framed rather than lost.

Perhaps the real choice is not between trees and view but between two ways of seeing. Trees pull the gaze inward into leaf and fruit and the bird resting on the branch. Peaks pull the gaze outward into immensity and distance. Both are necessary. One roots me, the other humbles me. Sometimes, while clicking photographs of the snow-peaks, I frequently end up framing them inside a natural ‘window’ or at times with an interesting foreground.

So for now I lean towards restraint. I plant enough to shelter the orchard but not so much that I lose the winter mountains. Some trees I allow to rise tall, their crowns holding back the winds. Others I keep lightly lopped at the lower branches, shaping small windows through which the peaks can quietly appear. Still, I know that tall trees in front can change the sense of vastness and openness that some people so deeply cherish. From my office window I can always enjoy an open view of the peaks, since it sits at a greater height. There are a few other spots on the property that offer the same gift, so the view will never truly be lost.

When thought of more deeply, an orchard is never only about what grows within it. It is also about the openings between, the pauses, the silences, the lines of sky and mountain that appear between trunks. On a philosophical note, our lives are much the same, shaped not only by what we build and achieve but also by the spaces in between – the balance of solitude and community, of labour and rest.

As winter approaches, I will plant a few more trees, both nut and fruit. They will offer shelter and food to the birds, and provide my family and friends with a harvest to enjoy and remember.

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