What's happened/ing to this tree?

[BigMcD]

Aside from the leaners on the right...what's going on with the trunk here?

There's lots of dead limbs up to the crown...but ongoing growth in the top.

[Amelanchier]

I'm guessing it used to be on its own and now its got too many friends!

[Graham]

Part of a coppice with standards woodland.

 

Big old chestnut past its prime but should be there for a good few years yet.

 

Is all that chestnut coppice going to be harvested?

[David Humphries]

Yeah, what the other guys said.

 

Interesting shot.

 

Hope no one feels the need to "tidy up" the dead wood and leaners.

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

[BigMcD]

Funny you should say that..... the warden does want to clear the leaners....but I imagine the dead limbs will be preserved if possible....it's right by an easy access path and has had some stuff cleared from around it in the past to make a feature of it. Think the leaners have been there since the '87 storm.

 

Graham- At the moment we're coppicing a different area...not sure when this lot will get done.

[Nimby]

I would guess that they are cankers due to the tree getting old.

 

Oh and try not to walk on the Bluebells?

[BigMcD]

Bluebells?? What bluebells?

[David Humphries]

Bluebells?? What bluebells?

 

 

A fine and subtle spirit dwells

In every little flower,

Each one its own sweet feeling breathes

With more or less of power.

There is a silent eloquence

In every wild bluebell

That fills my softened heart with bliss

That words could never tell.

 

Yet I recall not long ago

A bright and sunny day,

'Twas when I led a toilsome life

So many leagues away;

 

That day along a sunny road

All carelessly I strayed,

Between two banks where smiling flowers

Their varied hues displayed.

 

Before me rose a lofty hill,

Behind me lay the sea,

My heart was not so heavy then

As it was wont to be.

 

Less harassed than at other times

I saw the scene was fair,

And spoke and laughed to those around,

As if I knew no care.

 

But when I looked upon the bank

My wandering glances fell

Upon a little trembling flower,

A single sweet bluebell.

 

Whence came that rising in my throat,

That dimness in my eye?

Why did those burning drops distil --

Those bitter feelings rise?

 

O, that lone flower recalled to me

My happy childhood's hours

When bluebells seemed like fairy gifts

A prize among the flowers,

 

Those sunny days of merriment

When heart and soul were free,

And when I dwelt with kindred hearts

That loved and cared for me.

 

I had not then mid heartless crowds

To spend a thankless life

In seeking after others' weal

With anxious toil and strife.

 

'Sad wanderer, weep those blissful times

That never may return!'

The lovely floweret seemed to say,

And thus it made me mourn.

 

 

Anne Bronte

 

 

 

 

.

[Khriss]

A fine and subtle spirit dwells

In every little flower,

Each one its own sweet feeling breathes

With more or less of power.

There is a silent eloquence

In every wild bluebell

That fills my softened heart with bliss

That words could never tell.

 

Yet I recall not long ago

A bright and sunny day,

'Twas when I led a toilsome life

So many leagues away;

 

That day along a sunny road

All carelessly I strayed,

Between two banks where smiling flowers

Their varied hues displayed.

 

Before me rose a lofty hill,

Behind me lay the sea,

My heart was not so heavy then

As it was wont to be.

 

Less harassed than at other times

I saw the scene was fair,

And spoke and laughed to those around,

As if I knew no care.

 

But when I looked upon the bank

My wandering glances fell

Upon a little trembling flower,

A single sweet bluebell.

 

Whence came that rising in my throat,

That dimness in my eye?

Why did those burning drops distil --

Those bitter feelings rise?

 

O, that lone flower recalled to me

My happy childhood's hours

When bluebells seemed like fairy gifts

A prize among the flowers,

 

Those sunny days of merriment

When heart and soul were free,

And when I dwelt with kindred hearts

That loved and cared for me.

 

I had not then mid heartless crowds

To spend a thankless life

In seeking after others' weal

With anxious toil and strife.

 

'Sad wanderer, weep those blissful times

That never may return!'

The lovely floweret seemed to say,

And thus it made me mourn.

 

 

Anne Bronte

 

 

 

 

.

Another bloody hippy tree hugger...............

[David Humphries]

Another bloody hippy tree hugger...............

 

 

 

I believe you are misled Sir,

apparantly Anne was a dab hand with a felling Axe

 

 

 

 

 

.