AAAAAND IIIIII'LL seeeeeee youuuuuuuuuuuuuu AND YOU'LL seeeeeeeee meeeeeeeeeee AND I'LL SEE YOU IN THE BRANCHEEEEEES THAT BLOOOOOOOOOOOW in the breeeeeeeze
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So someone or someones decided to go out in bad weather during the night and with a chainsaw, fell a 200/300 year tree for no reason at all.
Said tree was healthy and has been an iconic image for the UK, not to mention its placement in a natural dip along side an almost 2,000 year old Roman wall...said tree and wall also made famous for being in the 1991 movie Robin Hood and the prince of thieves...but...seriously...
Although I do love that a nearby pup has offered up a reward of a £1,500 bar tab for anyone who can give the police any information leading to an arrest and conviction for felling the tree.
But seriously...what is this planet coming too? That people decide that they want to go out and commit criminal damage to property that doesn't belong to them and to ruin a perfectly healthy tree in the process.
The fact that a 16-year old has been arrested in connection is just shocking...but we all know that he didn't do it alone, not with the professionalism of the felling.
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My Tree is Gone
The simple, comforting, everyday items in our lives are often easily taken for granted…
I lost my tree.
As the year draws to an end, we often look back at decisions, consequences of decisions, victories and losses and various “acts of god.” We win some, we lose some, but when looking back, some losses were a gut punch. I’m not referring to the obviously tragic loss of friends and family, but the loss of things that many consider mundane. Things like a front yard tree or a yard swing that was used under the aforementioned tree. Maybe you could easily get over the absence of such things my friend, but those of us with emotional states of mind and old souls, I reiterate the use of the term gut punch.
As we returned from four months living in Round Rock in early May of ‘23, it appeared that our return was going to be welcomed by a deluge of rain. Coincidentally, it would be the only significant rainfall the whole summer until our departure for Missouri. I digress …rain it did, a truly drenching rain storm. Early that Sunday, our first weekend home, the limbs of our front yard tree of thirty one years were overburdened with the weight of so much rain and promptly fell through our roof. It was a small hole, it was a huge mess that would require back breaking amount of cleanup, but none of that was holding my attention. I was focused on my shade tree and yard swing being destroyed. We can handle replacement of things in the house, but how does one replace the loss of a sanctuary?
My kids climbed the tree, made tree houses within the tree, it provided ample shade when doing yard work; but more than that, oh so much more, my tree was my place of solace. Sitting outside in the swing with my canine compadres, reading countless books, enjoying the occasional cigar, relaxing with libations be it coffee or whisky all provided me with a disconnect with an ever maddening world. Cowboy Jack wouldn’t surrender, he went out to where we’d spent countless hours enjoying each other’s company and simply sat …refusing to move. It was heartbreaking. One can’t help but wonder how these daily fixtures in our lives are interpreted by my dogs; but it was a special place to my puppies.
During the initial outbreak of Covid, Da and Ma (Kim and I ) were home all the time and were worried and sad a lot while sitting under the tree. The dogs definitely picked up on the vibe; they stayed very close and comforted us when we were down. I firmly believe that dogs are very aware of and responsive to the emotions of their humans and I hope we comforted them as much as they comforted us. I believe that trees have spirits. The sitting under our tree comforted us all. I don’t think we have thirty years to wait on it to regrow to its once princely stature; it is gone.
We travel almost constantly, but when we do return to home, I always knew that my tree would be there, calling to me, bidding me rest and peace. The gentle leaves dancing in the wind, providing a respite from 100° days, the limbs providing a playground for squirrels and birds to run; all a gift to the man sitting beneath it who was trying to work out the stresses of life. It couldn’t have been a more perfect place to work through the daily travails we face. As I mentioned earlier, I believe that trees have a spiritual component and my tree and the swing beneath it healed my broken soul many times and I shall treasure the time I spent under its embracing shade.
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There were no clouds or gray skies to match the mood of the moment. No rain or thunder to match the hammering of our broken hearts.
Underneath the Sycamore Tree by B. Celeste
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