Tuesday, 31 May 2011

growing up






In this small town - the description "village" actually feels more accurate - there's a tree. There's a church as well but that plays only a minor part in the story. The tree however has a major role. The tree is a Weeping Beech and its hanging branches sweeps the ground like paintbrushes in the breeze. The trunk is thick and gnarly and not at all easy to climb. You have to climb the ground-touching branches to actually reach the crown. The ground underneath the canopy is soft from the old leaves and when the season is right you find heaps of beechnuts in the hollows between the roots. From the shelter of the shiny foliage one can play and hide for hours and spy on the pretty boy with big brown eyes. You can carve your initials in the bark like so many others have, but you decide against it because you don't want to hurt the tree.


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