Rachel McAlpine writes, blogs, draws and podcasts here
A taxonomy of aging based on the elder tree
February 22, 2024
I’ve invented a new taxonomy of aging, based on the wonderfully named elder tree. A taxonomy of aging is useful for the medical profession and carers. But when you find yourself in a particular category like “old” or “frail old”, sometimes that can be pretty hard to swallow.
When it dawned on me at 75 that I was no longer young, and said so, most people cried out in denial. “You’re not old! You’ll never be old!” I know what they meant: I still don’t feel old, of course. Like most people my age I feel a good 20 years younger than my actual age.
Now the zeitgeist is changing, but many people still dislike the word “old” and nearly every synonym — when it applies to them. If that’s you — I understand. I have a different approach, accepting and even welcoming the word “old” now that I’m very very nearly 84. But trust me, I do understand. It’s only human, because the “old” are forever the Other, older than us, not like us. Until they are like us. And we are them.
Well, here we go again!
I was walking home and admiring a lovely puriri tree flaunting its glamorous berries.
A puriri tree with its cherry-like fruits: nothing like an elderberry tree.
For a while I couldn’t identify the tree, and for a moment I wondered, maybe it’s an elder tree? No no no. But wait — that word “elder”? It dawns on me that here’s another way to place ourselves in the taxonomy of aging. And I think it’s good to choose our own category according to how we feel.
Life cycle of the elder tree (with redundant italics: sorry folks)
OK, elder wood had an important job to do. And at times was full of hot air. Both are also true of me and certain other people. Not you, of course.
But never mind the origin, look at the word: “elder”!
As the ages below are subjective, change them to suit yourself.
We, the elderberries, start life as a seed (in the womb)
then a sprout (a child)
then a seedling (a teen)
then a sapling (our 20s)
then a young tree (our 30s and 40s)
then a mature tree (our 50s and 60s)
also … an elderflower (our 70s and 80s)
and finally … an elderberry (our 90s and more)
Enjoy your elderflower years
The elder tree (Sambucus nigra) has nothing to do with age.
“The Latin specific epithet nigra means “black”, and refers to the deeply dark colour of the berries. The English term for the tree is not believed to come from the word “old”, but from the Anglo Saxon æld, meaning fire, because the hollow stems of the branches were used as bellows to blow air into a fire.”
Wikipedia
Elderflowers on an elder tree. Photo by Robert Flogaus-Faust, CC BY 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.( I think this photo is upside down, don’t you?)
Let “elderflowers” represent the stage when you notice you are legitimately not young. You may feel comfortable about aging. Perhaps you’re enjoying your freedom from, oh, all sorts of obligations and burdens. On my own mental chart, I’ve been an elderflower since I turned 70. (I knew the 70s were a sweet spot for me.)
Elderflowers are frequently used as a light flavouring in food. To tell the truth, I can never taste a thing. But they are beautiful, and multitudinous, and essential to the survival of the elder tree. And they (almost) glow in the dark.
Look forward to being Elderberries
Elderberries are easy to recognise with their great drooping bunches of small, black berries.( Photo Luciano Bernardi, CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons)
Let “elderberries” represent the next stage of life. You may be frail, or not. You may have slowed down, or not much. For some this happens in your 80s but after interviewing 13 nonagenarians last year, I see 90 years old as a turning point. Those nonagenarians seemed different in some very particular ways. More stoic. More contented. More appreciative. They perceive their lives and the world from a wide and long perspective. I’m looking forward to becoming more like them.
They’re gorgeous things, elderberries. Glistening, the blackest of blacks, weighted with their own juice, always in a communal bunch. Powerful, too…
The meaning of elder trees
Historically, elder trees are steeped in stories, home remedies and superstitions. I invite you to explore them and discover analogies, parables and life lessons that chime with your own ideas.
Never mind the science (though I revere the science) — bring your elderflower or elderberry insights to the fore! Start the search, maybe with these links. See you in 6 months’ time when you have sorted out all the contradictory, crazy and practical “information” about the elder tree.
My favorite treat when I visited one grandmother was her homemade elderberry jam on homemade biscuits. A mouthwatering memory from an otherwise rather formal American southern lady grandmother. Invigorating languishing fires also sounds like a great job for those of who are eldering. From experience we know when to gently encourage a passion into flames, and when it is time to allow the embers to slowly fade when their time is done. Then sweeping away ashes to make room to build new fires at the time and place of our choosing. Lovely science and poetry. So glad you wrote today from your bed or not….
Lovely article! I can feel the sense of a different kind of blossoming these days, just a few months shy of turning 71. It’s a blossoming into a deeper version of myself. Claiming the years it took to get here. Daring to claim my flowers. Standing in my roots, finally. With gratitude about the bittersweetness of it all… The sorrows and pain that highlight the joys and awe. The miracle of life itself. The most sweetness from the berries coming toward the end…..
What a great visual: taxonomy of aging via elder trees. Much better understood & more easily ‘acceptable’ than the usual aging delineations that are in society today! Thanks, Rachel.
Love this concept Rachel, and I think the elderflower picture is the right way up. Flowers face up, berries hang down – if my elderflower memory serves me right!
What a lovely, amusing, and inspiring way to look at aging. My grandsons, when young, knew the two three letter words never to use around Granma were age and old. At one time I had fallen down the steps outside the The Freyburg Pool. When the ambulance driver asked how old I was, grandson number two, about 12 at the time, said we don’t ask Granma her age – she is 29 plus GST. (goods and services tax)
I will share this post with all four of them – they are all now well into their twenties.
I am looking forward in a few years time, to being an aged elderberry. Thank you.
But then his brother pointed out I couldn’t be that age because it would make Auntie Cate and his father older than me. That one is continuing to go far.
A insightful reflection on Elderberries, Rachel. My mother is turning 93 tomorrow. Age has not decreased her vibrancy or joy for living. As I move along my timeline, I recognize the connection between old age and a lack of vitality is often influenced by societal perceptions and ageism. I especially appreciated your words: “It’s only human, because the “old” are forever the Other, older than us, not like us.” A very perceptive thought.
This is a wonderful portrait of your mother. How lucky you are with this role model in your life. I struggle to understand this othering that we do, but I can see it as human.
I have tried elderberry cordial, I would love to have one available to pick locally, I don’t think our climate is great for these trees. Old is a word, elder is a word and the words we use to describe ourselves are who we become. I’ll have to be careful, this post was a good reminder
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My favorite treat when I visited one grandmother was her homemade elderberry jam on homemade biscuits. A mouthwatering memory from an otherwise rather formal American southern lady grandmother. Invigorating languishing fires also sounds like a great job for those of who are eldering. From experience we know when to gently encourage a passion into flames, and when it is time to allow the embers to slowly fade when their time is done. Then sweeping away ashes to make room to build new fires at the time and place of our choosing. Lovely science and poetry. So glad you wrote today from your bed or not….
Wonderful! I adore your expansion of one loaded phrase — this I will mull over today.
Lovely article! I can feel the sense of a different kind of blossoming these days, just a few months shy of turning 71. It’s a blossoming into a deeper version of myself. Claiming the years it took to get here. Daring to claim my flowers. Standing in my roots, finally. With gratitude about the bittersweetness of it all… The sorrows and pain that highlight the joys and awe. The miracle of life itself. The most sweetness from the berries coming toward the end…..
Yes, yes, yes and yes again.
I absolutely love this and will share it with all my (elderly) friends!
Oh good! I am delighted.
I enjoyed reading about the Elderberry tree. I am almost at the flowering stage. Thank you for sharing.
Great. There are so many ways to blossom, and you will have plenty of company.
I’m delighted to wake up this morning and find I’m an elderflower! Thank you Rachel.
My pleasure.
Oh that anonymous above, is me, Maggie… not sure why I am anonymous… sigh…
It doesn’t make sense. You Liked it as Maggie but commented as the charming, ubiquitous Anonymous. Sigh.
What a great visual: taxonomy of aging via elder trees. Much better understood & more easily ‘acceptable’ than the usual aging delineations that are in society today! Thanks, Rachel.
My meandering mind occasionally stumbles on a useful analogy. It’s a poets thing, agree?
Agreed!
🙂
Love this concept Rachel, and I think the elderflower picture is the right way up. Flowers face up, berries hang down – if my elderflower memory serves me right!
I trust your memory more than mine.
Wonderful post!
What a lovely, amusing, and inspiring way to look at aging. My grandsons, when young, knew the two three letter words never to use around Granma were age and old. At one time I had fallen down the steps outside the The Freyburg Pool. When the ambulance driver asked how old I was, grandson number two, about 12 at the time, said we don’t ask Granma her age – she is 29 plus GST. (goods and services tax)
I will share this post with all four of them – they are all now well into their twenties.
I am looking forward in a few years time, to being an aged elderberry. Thank you.
I adore your grandson’s answer! So if GST was 15 per cent, you were 33.35 years old at the time 🙂
But then his brother pointed out I couldn’t be that age because it would make Auntie Cate and his father older than me. That one is continuing to go far.
Unforgettable.
That was fun and amusing.
I’m 62 and I don’t mind being called old/ older. I find aging to be a big advantage
That’s our little secret.
😍
A insightful reflection on Elderberries, Rachel. My mother is turning 93 tomorrow. Age has not decreased her vibrancy or joy for living. As I move along my timeline, I recognize the connection between old age and a lack of vitality is often influenced by societal perceptions and ageism. I especially appreciated your words: “It’s only human, because the “old” are forever the Other, older than us, not like us.” A very perceptive thought.
This is a wonderful portrait of your mother. How lucky you are with this role model in your life. I struggle to understand this othering that we do, but I can see it as human.
I wish I understood the “othering” too!! Sigh….
I have tried elderberry cordial, I would love to have one available to pick locally, I don’t think our climate is great for these trees. Old is a word, elder is a word and the words we use to describe ourselves are who we become. I’ll have to be careful, this post was a good reminder