The Tree of Optimism.

A friend of mine is a member of our village Parish Council, and me being of an allotmenteering bent., he asked me to help with a special job recently. It was the planting of a replacement apple tree on Parish land, for one that had become diseased and had to be felled, and which was protected by a tree preservation order.

Little was known about the now truncated old tree, such as when it was planted or what variety it was, which I thought rather sad. It had stood there forlorn and forgotten  in  that field for a very long time, but must have  had some significance once,  having ended up with a TPO on it.

Stumped (gettit !) as to what variety it was, we plumped for a good old  fashioned Bramley as its replacement, that will hopefully supply the innards of many a scrumptious apple pie for years to come.

Before

After

When the sheep in the field where it was to go, were eventually corralled off, the deed was duly carried out on a very wet and windy afternoon with their prolific droppings clinging everywhere. I must admit, for a while I wondered what the hell I was doing there!

People who passed by expressed an approving interest, except for one doom laden old lad who deflated me a little.  “You’ll just have to wait about seven years now, to see any apples from it”, he muttered, and it did make me think, given our ages!

It reminded me of the tale of the very old man who wanted to plant a tree, but his wife of sixty years questioned whether it was worth doing at his extended age.

“Hmm, I see what you mean”, he said, but after a short hesitation added,  “I’d better get on with it sharpish then, hadn’t I”.

Now was that just an acceptance of his fate, or a defiant show of optimism in the continuity of life beyond his own existence.  I prefer to believe the latter.

So in solidarity with that old man and in memory of the old tree, it was worth getting p***ing wet through and covered in sheep s**t for, I think, even though I may have to wait a while for some apple pie.