Newlyn author  Liz Harman  has a written a new story in her popular Aunt Sarah Anne series, in which the protagonist tries a bit of tree-hugging at Trengwainton

I WAS readin' this 'ere article in the paper a few weeks backlong that said: "Tune in to the earth energies, hug a tree and feel the earth throb."

I said to Alfred: "What a pile of foolishness that is, what do they think we are to b'lieve such things?"

"I dunno," ee said. "When you d'think of it, Sarah Anne, our lungs are what d'keep us goin', our lungs d'clean our blood and d'pump it all round our bodies."

"What that got to do with trees?" I said.

"Well," answered Alfred, "they do say that the trees are the lungs of the earth, they d'purify the air that we breathe, they get rid of all the poisons in the atmosphere, and where do the trees git the energy to do that, it must come from somewhere, and I do reckon it must come from the earth."

My soul an' body, I 'ave never 'eard Alfred talk so knowledgeable in all my life, I dedn' knaw that ee was so long-headed, I reckon ee bin readin' the grandchild's school books.

"Tha's all very well, Alfred," I said. "But do you really b'lieve that if you 'ugged a tree you would feel throbbin'?"

"We could try, Sarah Anne," ee answered. "Nex' time we d'go up Trengwainton Gardens."

I thought tha's safe enough, he's bound to forget by the time we go up there. We d'dearly like catchin' the bus up to Trengwainton, the gardens are 'ansum in the spring with all the camellias bloomin' and you can git a rich cup of tea and a lovely bit of cake in the tea-room. We d'like to sit in the sun and 'ark to the birds.

Well, one day las' week it was so lovely an' sunny and mild that we decided to go. Dedn' need no big coats, it was warm nuff for our git thick jumpers and our little light macs in my 'andbag. It was beautiful, the sky was blue, the birds were singin', the trees and the flowers were lovely, you could only feel some fortunate to be able to be there. We sat down on one of the seats, then Alfred said: "Come on, Sarah Anne, you knaw what we was goin' do when we come up 'ere nex', we are goin' to 'ug a tree."

"We caint do that today, there's too many people about, we shall only look daft," I told'n.

"There edn' many people 'ere at all," says ee. "And we can go where we can 'ear anyone comin' on the gravel path."

So, feelin' bream foolish, we went and found our trees. I don't know what sort of tree I was 'uggin, but it felt quite cool and rough at first, then I got used to it.

"Alright, are ee?" I shouted to Alfred.

"If you aren't quiet you waint 'ear nothin." ee said back.

"I caint in any case," I replied.

"Give'n a chance to work," ee said, so I shut up and concentrated. In a bit of while I felt quite comfortable with my arms around the tree, leanin' my face 'gainst the trunk. It was very peaceful, you could hear the sounds in the tree, little bits of leaves droppin', the birds flyin' around and singing. I don't know 'ow long we stayed there, but the peace was broken when we 'eard a family comin' along the gravel path.

We jumped away from our trees as if we was criminals, and pretended to be lookin' at the flowers. Well, we did feel a bit embarrassed about it. After the family 'ad passed us we 'eard one of the children say: "Do you think that old lady and gentleman had fallen down, Mummy, their fronts were all covered in leaves and moss and earth?"

And when we looked at each other, Alfred and me found we were lagged! Our git jumpers were covered in moss and bits of ivy, and our 'air and 'eads were thick with bits of leaves and twigs. We couldn't get the moss out of our jumpers till we got 'ome and took a brush to them.

Well, did I feel the earth throb? I don't know 'bout that, but I do know that as I stood there with my arms around the tree trunk, just listening to the sounds of nature, I felt as if I was back to when I was a child playin' among the trees up Bojowen woods, chasin' the sunlight 'mongst the trees, happy without a care in the world. I might even try it again.

Why don't you 'ave a go – go on 'ug a tree, you might feel the earth throbbin'. Only you make sure you choose a tree that edn covered with moss and ivy.

Now 'Ark Some More, Liz Harman's second volume of short stories, is published by Scryfa, priced £6. It is available from shops in Newlyn, Mousehole and Penzance or by writing to Liz Harman, 25 New Road, Newlyn, Penzance, Cornwall TR18 5PZ. Cheques (£7, to include p&p) should be made payable to E Harman.