A Round Knot Forms an Eye: Catherine Yeates on the Writing Inspiration Drawn from Trees
For every place I have lived, I can point to a tree that inspired me. When I was growing up in the Chicago suburbs, it was the immense cottonwood at the center of my flower garden. When I attended college in Iowa City, it was the tree on the lawn in the middle of campus, one with low, sturdy branches that were perfect for climbing. During graduate school, it was the tree with a massive hole in its trunk that looked like a portal to another world.
I have been writing for most of my life, but only recently did I start referring to myself as a writer. Though several of my college friends were English majors, and my former university is known for the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, the trajectory of my studies took me toward science instead. I entered the Interdisciplinary Graduate Program in Neuroscience at the University of Iowa.
I was drawn to academic research, and there was much that I enjoyed about my work. Still, I realized I needed a way to extricate myself from my anxieties over courses and presentations and laboratory research. Grounding myself was not a skill that came easily. I began spending more time in nature, jogging and hiking. Spending too much time indoors led to rumination—my mind spinning its wheels. Movement helped me think. Words came more easily.
Near the end of graduate school, I met my spouse. We got married and finished our respective degrees. His career led him to the military, and in turn, to Dayton, Ohio, where I began a position as a postdoctoral researcher. My job was stressful, but I had the benefit of knowing that I responded well to time in nature. I started exploring the trails in the area.
A massive sycamore tree resides on a trail outside of Tipp City, Ohio. It sits on the edge of a riverbank, thick roots holding it in place, preventing it from tumbling into the water. Song lyrics and short messages adorn the bark. Its trunk shifts from grayish brown to patches of muted green, pink, and yellow. The tips of its branches are white, almost bonelike in appearance. Spiderwebs fill the small cavern created by its roots, accessible only when the river recedes.
I visited that trail and tree many times over the years I lived in Dayton. Besides reducing my anxiety, hiking became a way to connect with something beyond myself. I’m not sure whether to call it a spiritual experience or a burst of creative inspiration. Maybe both. But the more I hiked, the more I knew that my time in nature was vital to my well-being. In turn, I felt a greater connection to my need to create stories.
“The best ideas come to me when I’m surrounded by trees.”
- Catherine Yeates
It wasn’t until 2022, after my spouse and I had left Dayton, that I began submitting my work to literary magazines. The Tipp City tree, with its bony branches, inspired the underworld mythology in a fantasy story I wrote called “The Gold Band,” in which two women reunite after death to spend their afterlives together. The short story was published in Rising Action Review.
A tree in Dayton inspired my story “The Ghost” which was published in Abraxas Review. Carriage Hill MetroPark holds an array of beautiful trails that wind through the forest and around a small lake. I only found the park during my last year in Dayton, but I visited it during every season. It was the prettiest in fall when the leaves turned the brightest orange I had ever seen. Out of all the trees there, however, the one that fascinated me most was already dead.
The tree is little more than a broken trunk that still stands, with the rubble from its branches strewn around it. The gap in its trunk opens like a mouth, and a round knot forms an eye. The first time I saw the tree, it left me unsettled, as though it had somehow tapped into a piece of my raw grief at leaving academia. On subsequent visits, my reaction subsided, but I still felt melancholy there. When my spouse received word that he would be moving to a base in Texas, I knew I would miss those trails. I made sure to visit them all again before we left. The last time I passed that tree, I was struck by the image of a tall headstone. It left a bittersweet feeling that encapsulated my emotions at leaving Dayton.
I took from my time there a renewed drive to explore nature as well as a drive to create. I may write at my laptop, but nature is where I untangle my thoughts and gather my inspiration. The best ideas come to me when I’m surrounded by trees.
