Many thanks to everyone who entered our National Tree Week book giveaway, it was lovely to hear about your favourite trees. Trees are appreciated for many reasons but there were general themes within the responses of great age and size, feelings of protection, wisdom and wonder, and benefit for wildlife. Not too surprisingly, the mighty Oak got the most votes, including from Jo who said “I love the large oak tree in my garden as it provides a great home for wildlife and gives me shade to relax on my seat underneath in the summer and listen to the gentle swaying of the branches over my head.”
Megan selected “The huge oak at the end of my road, which must have stood for at least a hundred years, as horse and carts ambled by on our lane which was once the main road from Cardiff to Birmingham before the advent of motorways”, and Eunice is also a Quercophile: “A tall, slender Sessile Oak that grows by the side of our house gets my vote as my favourite tree. It grows among birches that share the sunlight with it and the oak yet stands apart. Our bedroom window looks out on to it and when I open the curtains I’m reminded just how lucky we are to have this gorgeous tree as the first thing we see each morning.”
Beech and Birch came joint second. Estelle voted for a veteran Beech: “My favourite tree is in our 5 acre woods. It is no longer the once glorious Beech it was, sadly it had to be felled due to storm damage causing a catastrophic split in the main trunk. However, we deliberately left a high stump when we felled it. We wanted to be able to remember the tree and use the stump as a seat to allow us to sit in the woods and watch new life springing through the newly opened to light woodland floor”. Maxine’s favourite Beech “bends her old branches across the path, propping long limbs filled with creatures on the bank of a breathing valley. As I write, the family of white mushrooms travel her branches and nooks as the rain falls. A white village on brown green bark. I love this tree.”
Linda loves Birch for its versatility and Liz nominated her Granny Birch: “She is a silver birch in our almost ancient wood. We have no idea how old she is but we feel she is protecting and hugging us. We confide in her when something is bothering us and so often we come away and we know what to do! Thank you granny birch x”. Gemma is also looked after by Betula pendula: “I love the silver birch, I love the patterns on its bark and we have used its branches to make our path through the woods. On winter nights when I am still working in the woods, the white, silver bark shines out under the moonlight, guiding my way”.
All the other votes were spread across an interestingly wide selection of trees, mainly native broadleaves but also two of our three native conifers and a couple of more exotic species. Neil opted for Aspen “because of the sound and sight of their distinctive “trembling” leaves. They are also crucial habitat for a wide range of wildlife”, while Margaret loves “The 2 Alder trees just in front of my house. They are like benevolent guardians watching over us”. And Laurel says “I’m no expert (learning a lot after buying woodland recently to preserve/as a hobby) but I love trees like sweet chestnut, particularly old ones with twisted trunks. They feel so wise and full of character!” Dendrophilia is open to all, no expert knowledge required.
Anna’s favourite is “A beautiful veteran goat willow by the pond in our woodland in Kent. Not far off the ground it splits into five trunks and you can sit in the middle of them and be in awe of the tree”, and Donna’s are her Elms: “Going through the process of rewilding, somehow, what I now call ‘Elm Grove’ has popped up, likely connected to existing nearby trees. I walk through them every morning, part of my daily bird feeding route. The Elms, a wonderful addition to the other native trees and fruit trees growing in our small, but interesting area of land.”
The other favourite species were Rowan, Wild Cherry, Ash, Wild Service Tree, Sycamore, Hazel, Hawthorn, an orchard Bramley Apple, Scots Pine, Yew, Indian Bean Tree and the Monkey Puzzle Tree. Hannah on the other hand is all inclusive: “My favourite trees are each and every one in my woodland. It would be unfair to not include them all”. However the final word (or short story!) goes to Kate for her complex relationship with an allotment Poplar:
“Dear Poplar, My neighbour. You are not one of the grand, mighty trees that everyone knows – like the oak. You are unassuming and almost unnoticed but I know what you get up to. I have seen you through every season more than 25 times. You are host to insects, squirrels and birds who argue in your spiky branches. You drop your leaves on my allotment and occasionally a large branch which could kill me if I happened to be under it. Your best ‘falling’ trick is to create fluffy, silky cushions around your seeds and send them down to me, making a downy carpet of soft fuzz which covers everything – and impedes its growth. I like you a lot – your solidity, your shade, your colours – but you can be mean – stopping my gooseberries from thriving unless I intervene and pick every irritating seed up. Then I feel mean for depriving you of your means of procreating. Anyway, I mentioned this fluff to my neighbour JP and his first reaction was “Chop it down”! I sprang to your defence. Horrified. I do find you annoying but I don’t want you to go. I mean, you must be older than me (not that that’s a particularly good reason to keep anything; just because you’ve endured life on earth for a long time, doesn’t mean you are better, though of course you are!) but it does mean you were here first and there must be some sort of advantage – rights-wise – in that. I can’t bear the thought of being without you. Yes, we’d get more light and you’d not nick all the water. But I’d miss that special sound your leaves make – sussuration I think it’s called. I’d miss your craggy trunk and the spiders that abseil down from you. Mostly I’d miss the otherworldy life way up there in your upper branches where wood pigeons nest, magpies pester, starlings gather and parakeets squawk. Small birds, always invisible but audible, chatter, roost and nest up there, far from humans and cats. In their own world, not ours. You are everyday but otherwordly at the same time. Keep on growing. Kate x”