THE actor, Judi Dench, says she will probably give up acting some time soon and devote the rest of her life to trees. Hugging them, listening to them, wondering at them and planting new ones in memory of those people who have been significant in her life: her late husband, Michael Williams, actors Robert Hardy, Natasha Richardson and many more. Dench’s passion for trees is explored in a new documentary which she’s been making over the last year and to be screened by the BBC on December 20.

Many of us take trees for granted. As we rush around and trudge along the blinkered, concrete tracks in our towns and cities, trees become invisible and nameless. Yet, we couldn’t live without them. Given that trees are our stoic, loyal and long-suffering companions, why are we so incurious about them? Just as a child takes a good mother for granted because she is always there to rely on, similarly, we fail to see trees as beings in their own right, with lives and minds of their own. Too often, it’s not until a tree is gone or when something has gone terribly wrong in our lives, that we realise their meaning and value.

Until fairly recently, I had always seen trees as "loners". To my shame, I did not understand that they are social beings and live as families with parent trees looking after their young ones, feeding not just their own offspring, but other species of trees, too. I’d never imagined that they communicate with each other through vast underground networks and via the gases they emit into the air around them. Like good citizens, they are thoughtful and respectful of the space of others so that their branches grow out just to the exact point where they touch the tips of neighbouring trees.

They’re pretty smart, too. In Africa, the Acacia tree produces poison in its leaves to stop giraffes eating them. Not only that, this clever tree will warn other trees around it that the long-necked predators are on the rampage and they, in turn, will produce poison leaves, just in case. They are living and vibrant narrators of our planet’s evolution and are silent witnesses to the history of humanity.

As Christmas approaches and we create pressure for ourselves by fretting about gifts, food, parties and who is being invited (or uninvited), maybe now is a good time to go for a walk in the woods. Forsake the glare of brutalist supermarket lighting and treat yourself to a natural light bath under a canopy of trees and listen. Listen to the sound of the trees, the drips of rain that work their way down through the leaves and branches, to the creaking and breathing all around.

The trees really are alive and present. They are steadfast, non-judgemental and create space for us to think about the things that matter. They generously receive and contain our troubles and have a real knack for putting problems in perspective (they will still be standing there long after we and our troubles have gone). They provide an abundance of metaphors for knowledge, belonging, the cycle of life and our lived experiences.

As if that wasn’t plenty to be getting on with, walking in among trees is great at lowering blood pressure and soothing the heart rate, boosting our health and generally making us feel more relaxed and at one with ourselves and those around us. Millions of people's lives rely on the medicines they give us, from Taxol (the chemotherapy drug derived from the yew tree) to aspirin (from willow). For those in the know, trees are living pharmacies for people who don't have access to modern, over-the-counter pharmaceuticals.

A day out in the woods may be one of the most thoughtful and inspiring presents you could gift to someone you care about. Taking time out to reconnect with nature is a truly sane-making tonic. The powerful silence that hits you when you enter a forest can be unnerving. Don’t be scared. If this emergency stop from the unrelenting traction of city life jolts you and makes you unsteady, just grab the nearest tree and hold it. If you stand there long enough, you’ll find it holds you back. Whisper to it, the things you cannot bear to think or feel or say out loud, and it just listens. What’s not to hug?