The Internal Ramblings of a 21st-Century Woman: Why do Trees Make me Horny and Should I be More Worried About it?

Am I attracted to trees?

It’s not just trees though, it's every single leaf, every drop of grassy dew. Each and every perfect plant and their pulsing veins that run deep through the ground.

When I’m in nature I think about women and femininity, of the cyclical nature of the two. We are nature, us women, we’re as much a part of it as the rest. This is why I think that maybe it's ok to like trees. To want them, to need them. To touch their supple branches and scratch my fingers down their thick trunks.

And it’s only fair to love them, at the end of the day it’s better than hating them, as many people do. The forest burns for us, it takes our sins and buries them beneath its soil. Hides them away and allows us the freedom to sin again. All that blood and sacrifice and knowledge bound below the bark. I take my hat off to those beautiful creatures.

I take off my coat, jumper, and trousers too until I’m as naked as we came. And then I am born again into the forest. It’s natural to be naked in nature, unnatural to be confined by cotton and thread, we should breathe as they do, through our bare feet rooted in the soil.

I should be cold, I should be freezing, I should at least feel a breeze against my skin. Instead, all I feel is a low burning heat deep in my belly. My skin tingles in arousal and I sweat sweet nectar, tasting it on my tongue and aching for more.

When I’m in nature I think of witches and the connection they hold with the deep dark belly of the woods. Of how they’re born and will die within its silky wet folds.

I’m a witch, so I’ll die here. Nestled between the ferns and the oaks, my body will soak into the ground and the trees will drink me, lick me clean.

This is the intimacy of the forest, we are and will always be old friends, old lovers.

I wander deeper into the trees. Shrubs caress my bare thighs and with each step, it feels as if I’m coming home.