Clíodhna Ní Aodáin built For the Love of Trees from a practice of carrying her cello into forests, sitting beneath individual trees and waiting for a melody to emerge through close attention. Seven pieces translate those encounters into cello, voice, piano, field recordings and spacious atmospheric production, with Linden Tree serving as the album’s calm focal point and Lament for the Trees giving environmental grief a direct musical form.

Working with Grammy Award-winning producer Mickey Houlihan, the Irish cellist preserved the intimacy of the original outdoor sessions while expanding their sonic range. In this interview, Ní Aodáin discusses the distinct characters of the Linden, Rowan, Redwood and Fairie Tree, the instinctive role of the human voice and the influence of nature on her creative process and everyday life.

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Hi Clíodhna, it’s wonderful to have you with us. How would you introduce For the Love of Trees to someone discovering your music for the first time?

Thank you for having me! For the Love of Trees is a deeply meditative collection of seven pieces inspired by my relationship with trees and the natural world.

The music grew out of taking my cello into forests and sitting beneath individual trees. I would listen deeply, sing whatever musical impulse came to me, and then find that melody on the cello. Each tree seemed to have its own character and its own voice.

The music is an invitation to slow down, listen and reconnect — with nature, with ourselves and with the sense of wonder that is always available when we become truly present.

Nature sits at the heart of this album. What first drew you toward trees as the central subject of the project?

I have always been fascinated by trees. I’m lucky enough to live close to a forest, and I’ve always felt a very strong connection with the natural world.

There is something about the presence of a tree that can immediately change the way I feel. Trees don’t hurry, yet they are constantly alive and responding to their environment.

I became curious about what would happen if I approached a tree not just as something to look at, but as something to listen to. That curiosity eventually led me to take my cello into the forest.

How has your relationship with the natural world influenced your development as a composer and cellist?

For me, it is all about listening.

The cello is a resonance chamber, and even without the bow it will amplify sound. I’ve played the cello my whole life, and the longer you spend with something, the better you get to know it. So my conversation with the cello is always evolving.

Being in nature has taught me to leave more space, to listen before acting and to trust the first impulse that arises. Years of technique don’t disappear — they simply allow the music to emerge freely.

I think the greatest music comes from that sacred space where you are deeply listening to yourself and to your environment.

While creating For the Love of Trees, you took your cello into forests and began composing beneath individual trees. What happened during your first session, and how did that experience shape the project?

I didn’t know what was going to happen. I simply took my cello into the forest because I was curious to hear how it would sound there.

The cello is not naturally an outdoor instrument, but playing in a forest is like playing in a grand concert hall. There is so much resonance from the trees.

More importantly, something happened internally. When I went into the forest with the intention of really listening, I found myself entering a very peaceful, open space. I would sing, find the melody on the cello and simply follow where the music wanted to go.

After the first time, I was hooked. I kept returning. I didn’t know then that it would become a collection of seven pieces — it was simply a practice of showing up and listening.

Linden Tree is listed as the album’s focus track. What led you to choose this piece for that role?

The Linden tree has a particularly calming presence for me.

There are many Linden trees in Switzerland, often standing in the centre of village squares. I like to imagine how many conversations and decisions have taken place beneath them over the years.

When I sit beneath a Linden, I feel a deep relaxation, both physically and spiritually. For the music, I wanted to honour that quality by leaving plenty of space.

The silences and spaces between the phrases became part of the music — almost like taking a breath before speaking.

Linden, Rowan, Redwood and the Fairie Tree each became the subject of a separate piece. How did you approach creating an individual musical identity for each one?

I didn’t consciously try to give each tree a musical identity. I listened and allowed each encounter to unfold naturally.

The Linden felt peaceful. The Rowan was magical. The Giant Redwood felt majestic. And the Fairie Tree was completely otherworldly.

I hope that when people listen, they can feel those different characters for themselves.

And actually, you don’t have to know anything about the individual trees to experience this. I’d love people to listen to the music while sitting or lying under a tree — any tree. I think the magic is available to all of us.

Lament for the Trees carries a particularly striking title. What is the story behind this piece?

There is a great deal of beauty in this collection, but there is also grief.

There is so much deforestation happening around the world, and the trees that are being lost are not always being replaced. That breaks my heart.

Lament for the Trees emerged from that awareness. It is a piece of grief and love — because you don’t grieve something unless you care deeply about it.

I wanted there to be space in the collection for that feeling too.

The human voice appears alongside the cello throughout For the Love of Trees. What role does it play within the album’s relationship between music and nature?

The voice often comes first.

When I sit with a tree, I listen and allow the first musical impulse to arise. Sometimes that comes as a vocal sound or melody before I find it on the cello.

For me, the voice is very direct and instinctive. It doesn’t have the same layer of technique that the cello does. It is simply sound coming through the body.

I think that is part of the connection between the music and nature — listening, responding and allowing rather than trying to control the outcome.

The record combines cello, voice, piano, field recordings and atmospheric sound design. Why did you choose these particular instruments and sonic elements for For the Love of Trees?

The original forest encounters were very intimate — just me, my cello, my voice and the trees. When we brought the music into the studio, the challenge was to expand that world without losing its spirit.

I was incredibly fortunate to work with Grammy Award-winning producer Mickey Houlihan. He has a wonderful ability to hear beyond the notes and to look for the beauty and magic in the music.

The field recordings were particularly important because they help bring the natural world into the listening experience. We wanted the music to breathe and to leave space for the listener’s imagination.

It was really a collaboration between the original encounters, the cello, the voice, the natural sounds and Mickey’s vision.

Did the process of creating For the Love of Trees reveal something new to you about yourself, and if so, how has that discovery influenced the way you understand your own creative path?

I think it has reinforced something I’ve been learning for a long time: I don’t have to force the music.

If I show up, listen deeply and stay open, something will emerge.

That has changed the way I think about creativity. I’m less interested in controlling the outcome and more interested in creating the conditions for something authentic to arise.

And I think that extends beyond music. Listening to nature has changed the way I live. In our family, for example, we eat seasonal, organic and locally sourced food whenever possible. Having a garden has made us much more aware of where our food comes from and how much work goes into producing it. We also waste very little food.

For me, listening to trees is really part of a much bigger journey towards connection, gratitude and belonging.