The Tuesday tree: the afterlife of an oak
Long years ago, so many that there is now no trace in the bare earth of where its roots grew, a great oak came down in a field near the castle. There it lay, while a lime tree grew up and became old beside it, reaching knotty branches over the fallen trunk.
In its long, slow decay, the oak is still a thing of beauty,
and of nourishment.
It is also a pirate’s galleon with a high poop deck, and a dragon to be fought and slain by a sword-thrust to its gaping jaws.
I suspect that the oak will continue to be all these things, long after we are gone.
See also: Recycling an oak tree