Monday, 12 August 2013

Arborphilia?

                         
                                    

It's strange the random things you remember from your distant childhood.

We were probably about 12 years old. My friend Michael and myself had gone up to 'the dorm' where we found another 'dorm' member, Coulson, seriously blubbing his eyes out.

Such things were taken seriously at Prep' school, and our immediate concerns were that maybe one of his parents, or even a well-loved pet, had died; so we approached him with considerable sensitivity.

'What's up, Coulson; you pathetic fart?' we asked.

'They've cut down my tree' he replied; now blubbing even more than before.

'What stupid bloody tree?' we asked.

'My favourite climbing tree' he spluttered.

My recollection fails at this point, but I quite expect that we then gave him a kindly good kicking, and told him not to be such an obnoxious little cry-baby.

I've never shed tears at the felling of a tree, but there are certain ones around that would sadden me to see cut down.

Our own huge 'Royal Oak' will hopefully live out its days, and eventually die a respectable oak death. There are also a few enormous pines around, as well as some truly ancient chestnuts, that I would genuinely miss.

I'm not a 'tree hugger' in the Prince Charles sense, but I do give a passing slap on the bottom to certain trees as I pass by. And, yes, I do occasionally wish them a 'good morning'.

p.s. When I checked with Google to see if the word 'arborphilia' actually existed, I discovered a whole new world. Strange bunch we humans!



7 comments:

  1. The huge Beech that sits at the end of the garden where the cars are parked had a recent accident involving losing one of its huge limbs. It may have to come down and it will be heartbreaking. We often take them for granted until they're no longer there.

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  2. Reminds of how an intrepid female reporter found Tarzan in a forest and asked him what he did for sex when all alone there. "F*** hole in tree" was his answer. She asked him if he wanted the real thing, and when he said yes, she lay down on the ground and awaited him. He took a little run-up and gave her an almighty kick in the crotch. After she had recovered, she asked him why he had done this. "Always check for bees."

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  3. They've cut down my tree' he replied; now blubbing even more than before.

    I know that feeling. I have felt desperately sad when watching healthy, beautiful trees being felled for new housing estates, road widening and supermarkets.

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  4. The loss of a tree is a sad thing indeed...There is only one left in the front of our place and I have a feeling next year it may have to come down.

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  5. Some years back a businessman in town convinced the Dept. of Public Works that a lovely sycamore tree had to come down, citing "sidewalk buckling-tripping hazard". In my heart of hearts, I know it was because it blocked his business sign. I lost all respect for that man.

    He has since gone out of business. That beautiful tree was sacrificed for nothing.

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  6. I've blubbed over trees. When bulldozers came in and removed so many trees behind us for a housing development, i cried. I left them all standing in the morning, came back over lunchtime to see them all on the ground, and watched a confused bluejay wonder why his home had gone. The bluejay made me cry harder.

    Dutch Elm Disease, ca. 1968 felled the elms left along our main street in my hometown. One especially large one at the corner of the supermarket parking lot was one i often noticed, and i was very sad when i saw workmen cutting it down.

    The third time was this past spring, when an old, old maple finally dropped its huge branch that had one small branch still leafing out last summer. At least that one died from being old and having run its course.

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