TREE IN A ROW...

'Twas a nice sunny day yesterday, so I took myself off for a jaunt around one of my former neighbourhoods to lose myself in memories of yesteryear.  I was saddened to see that a line of seven or eight trees at the bottom of my old street had been reduced to two by the recent storms, and parts of their dismembered branches still lay on the ground, the result of their encounter with council workmen who'd cut up and removed the trunks.

I was even more saddened though, to learn that one particular tree, situated closer to my old house, had also been removed - though not as a result of the storms.  The discoloured remains of the flat, scarred base of the trunk was testament to the fact that it must've been felled some months ago, likely due to disease of some kind, but it was a sad sight to see.  The tree had yet been there on my last visit, and displayed no obvious signs that its days were numbered.

It was a large tree just off the side of a field (or what remained of a field to be more precise, as half of it had been requisitioned for amenity houses for the elderly 30 or so years back), used by neighbourhood kids as a swing. (In fact, it was the main tree used for this purpose, though occasionally others served the same function.)  Indeed, when I lived there, and on my frequent visits thereafter, more often than not it had a rope hanging from an overhanging branch.  I climbed that tree as a kid and swung on it many a time, and it represented a cherished part of my childhood.

Come June 14th, it will be 50 years since I flitted from the area, but as I visited regularly over the years on account of still having friends who lived there (or thereabouts), my familiarity with the place never diminished.  In fact, there was a spell that lasted for quite a number of years where I hung about the area more often than would've been the case had I never moved.  You see, while staying there, I'd already started to stray further afield in search of adventure, but once I'd flitted, I could hang about to my heart's content without the potential of parental observation or intervention in my escapades.

The tree on the left and further back is the one I'm referring to 

Over the decades, as is my wont, I took quite a number of photos of the tree (and others), and once I've finished typing this, I'll dig out one or two to accompany this piece.  Another friend from childhood now gone, alas, and I find my heart is heavy at the reminder that nothing lasts forever.  I always took a certain comfort on seeing familiar sights (whether it be trees, lampposts, 'phone boxes, original street signs, etc) when revisiting any of my old neighbourhoods, and the fact that some old 'pals' will no longer be there to welcome me in my own rapidly diminishing future is a sad and sobering thought.

I'll try and wring some small measure of consolation from the fact that its roots still run deep where it once stood, and hope that there will eventually be some regrowth around its base.  However, I'll miss it whenever I visit from now on and the place won't seem quite the same again.  It's been there all my life up to this moment and it just doesn't feel right now it's absent.  Anyone else ever think like this, or am I just bonkers?

I should just add that the plastic tree on the Aurora Batman model kit (above) always slightly reminded me of the real, now departed one, as it leaned at nearly the same angle though it didn't translate to the same scale.  By that I mean Batman was larger than the plastic tree he swung from, whereas a fully grown man would've been dwarfed by the real one.  (Yes, I'm bonkers.)

Feel free to indulge my madness by leaving a comment should you feel inclined.      

Posted in: Cartoons