Tree Inspiration for Guardian of the Pines

Posted April 26, 2019 by Laurel Wanrow in nature fantasy, Releases, YA Novels / 0 Comments

Guardian of the Pines is out into the world, most appropriately on Arbor Day! I loved creating this story and now I’m excited for you to read it. One part of how I came to write this diverse story is on my April 25 guest post for JoyfullyJay.com. Another part is loving trees and letting my imagination run wild.

Building the Isle of Giuthas, the Isle of Pines, in the first Windborne book was my greatest inspiration for this second story. Fern was flown up into an ancient tree in that first book–a fantastic image that probably came to me because I’d just visited Muir Woods National Monument in California. (Even the Black-Tailed deer made it into The Witch of the Meadows!)

The redwoods inspire everyone, but Fern was a wildflower lover. I couldn’t go on about these huge, ancient trees in her novel. I began a second novel, but the Pinewoods on the isle really blossomed when I visited Sequoia National Park in 2017.

Now I really knew the feel of the groves of giants. New ideas came to me: flying among the massive trunks, seeing the light filter to the forest floor, imagining living in a log home.

Then I read The Wild Trees by Richard Preston. He gave me insight to tree-climbing and the micro-habitats waiting to be discovered in the treetops.

Now I knew who my main character was: a boy who would do anything for trees–Cor. He was a tree-climber, fearless at heights. He descends from a family of tree wizards and adeptly works magic to grow and repair them. His family is so good at what they do, they are in demand throughout the Windborne world to help enclaves grow trees and manage their magical energy. Thus, Cor has no place to call home.

He flew among the massive trunks, just him and the birds. At every turn, tree corridors beckoned, the now-bluish mist tickling the tops of young trees and shrouding bunches of brushy needles. Cor’s heart swelled and sang in place of his pocketed earbuds.

This. This was a place he could endlessly explore, a forest like no other, the magical forest he’d yearned for. He might not be able to see much more than a hundred feet in any direction, but the sheer mass of the pines—trees upon trees—was a wonder that wouldn’t grow old soon. And he’d not even gotten to revel yet in the shrubs and flowers and lichens and whatever creatures hid among the glorious trees. When the first splinters of light streaked between the upper limbs, he alighted on a limb to simply stare.

But if Cor wants to stay and work with the Pines, he has a challenge ahead of him:

Lady Pina was waiting on the roof of her home in the hollowed log. She perched on a seat made from a curved branch that overlooked a patch of moss with several small, evergreen cowberry bushes and one three-foot-tall Scots pine, a spindly thing. It wouldn’t be for long, so why was she risking the roots growing into her roof and weakening it?
She snapped a pocket watch closed. “Timely. I appreciate that,” she murmured and gestured to a stump seat.
He kept his question to himself and sat.
A penny whistle appeared in her hand. She played, quite well, a pretty lilting tune he’d never heard. She lowered the instrument. “The first stanza. The words are”—she began singing— “Seed cracking. Cracking, cracking. Narrow crevice forming.” Before she put the whistle to her lips again, she said, “Sing along to acquaint yourself with the tune.”
“I, uh, don’t sing.”
She paused as if considering this. “Then you have wasted your time with that music device stuck in your ear.” She stood up.