Saturday April 2, 2005
Early this morning, three blokes and an enormous hunk of yellow-painted farm machinery came along and cut down my favourite tree. The one I’ve dreamed at from my kitchen window and wandered along the lane to visit ever since we came here to live. There’s no discernible reason why it should have been cut down. It was far enough away from the nearest structure for there to be no question of root damage and it was far enough from any building for it to pose no threat should it have been blown down even if it were not in the prime of life and many, many years from falling. No, it was simply a matter of the inexplicable dislike of some country people for trees of the traditional British kind.
And now my skies are a little emptier, my days denied one small element of the beauty that has lifted my eyes from the ground, and my outlook has lost a focal point that gave me much joy.
For one short moment I damned them, damned their eyes, and wished their farm machine a rapid and terminally rusty death. Just for a moment, of course, and probably on behalf of the tree itself, voiceless and defenceless. I shall miss that tree.
Hey ho. Other than that it’s been a purely lovely day, sunny, mild and still. Graham spent most of it out in the garden, which is now looking smart and welcoming. I finished off my long border, trimming, weeding and tidying it up. It is certainly better for it, and Graham is well pleased. Not exactly a labour of love because it’ll not be my border for much longer.
I do love a bit of gardening, though, and a raised border is much easier for me to get to than grovelling at ground level. If it were perhaps six inches higher, it’d be something I could tackle without thought, effort or strain, and this fact has not escaped Graham’s notice. I caught him sketching designs for our next catio this evening, and raised beds were a significant feature.
Late in the evening the news of the death of the Pope came through, not unexpected but tinged with sadness even so, as well as flavoured with gratitude. Seems to have been a day in which I’ve lost two landmarks. A Pope, and a tree. A great event, and a small one. Makes you think, does that.
|‘Postcards from my head’ No. 12
Another place, another tree