The Bonsai Tree She gave him a gift. A young sapling tree. It was the gift of herself given with love. It was a thing of beauty and a promise of beauty yet to be. He was pleased with the gift and vowed to tend and nurture it for the rest of his #life. He planted it in rich soil and protected it from the harsh wind and cruel frost. Sure enough the tree began to grow, flourish even. By the spring it seemed to have a vibrance about it that he couldn't see in other trees. But he was afraid. The tree was his! If it grew big and strong he wouldn't be able to keep his vow to tend it. It wouldn't need him. He would not be able to control it. He loved the tree but he needed it to need him. In his distress he tugged at the tree and found he was able to lift it from the ground without difficulty or damage. It wasn't too late! He was still stronger than the tree. It still belonged to him and he needed to find a way of keeping it like that. The roots were long and spread wide, but they were fine. He trimmed them back leaving just a few and planted the tree in a shallow pot. The tree accepted this without complaint. It made no more new growth that year but it was healthy and it's leaves stayed green. The following spring the tree again put out new growth, beautiful but less vibrant. The man didn't want the tree to grow tall, so he trimmed it and some of the branches he bound in wire and bent to the shape that pleased him. He was happy. He realised the tree was indeed his and would accept him moulding it into the size and shape he wanted. So it was that every spring the man would trim the roots and shape the branches of his tree until the tree was mature. Strong and sturdy, but stunted and still under his control. The man was happy indeed and the tree had even borne him fruit. It became as if the tree knew the way he wanted it to be and grew that way. He barely had to touch a branch in ten years, so he forgot all about the roots. He had been the master of the tree for twenty-five years and believed himself such a skilled master to have trained the tree. But he was blind and ignorant. Ten years earlier a fine root had found a weakness in the pot. It had grown and pushed and opened up the pot. For ten years the roots had been growing stronger and deeper, finding new strength and vigour every year. Now, this spring was different. This spring the tree rebelled. This spring the tree made such a plethora of growth that the man was helpless. Realising his mistake and in a rage with himself and the tree he tried to uproot the tree again but it's strength far outweighed his own. He took a saw and tried to hack it down but it was futile. The twisted trunk was like iron. Every day for a month he cut off a bit of new growth or wired a branch and every day the tree was stronger than him and he left defeated. He gave up three springs ago. Since then the tree has flourished and grown and is almost indistinguishable from the other trees. Almost indistinguishable! Look deep into its very centre and you would wonder what happened to the tree to give it such a strange and twisted little heart of iron.