When it comes to trees, my motto is, you can never have enough. If I had my 5-acre smallholding it’d be populated with pockets of native trees, and a little arboretum (literally “arbor“, meaning tree and “etum“, meaning collection of) for the many trees that I love the most.
When we bought this house the garden was bare and empty, except for a bedraggled privet hedge, grasses up to your waist and the splendid hawthorn tree at the far end. Shortly after arriving the hawthorn came into flower and swept the area with great swathes of white blossom, whose smell was as intoxicating as any I’ve ever smelt. I’ve written briefly about my love of trees, and in my mind they are one of the most divine beings in the world. Each tree with its own unique characteristics, smells, flowers, foliage, personality and fruit.
When on our trip into Scotland, our first stop was to the Benmore Botanic Gardens. When entering this inconspicuous place I didn’t realise just what immense beauty lay beyond the fences and walls of the garden itself, but how wrong I was. Walking down the Sierra redwood [Sequoiadendron giganteum] avenue my jaw fell at being surrounded by the most enormous trees I’ve ever seen. Everywhere I cast my eyes, a different tree - trees I’d read about but didn’t think I’d ever see - especially in a beautiful valley in Scotland. I was in my element, taking photographs of trees left and right, making mental (and at one point, physical) notes of trees that I one day hope to acquire. My husband commented more than once that I was like a child in a sweetshop, and indeed I was.
The visit was made all the more pleasurable by the fact that it seemed we were the only people there - it’s so enormous we didn’t encounter more than a handful in any of the three times we visited. There are no “keep of the grass” signs either, it was free reign to go wherever we pleased, hug as many trees as we desired, and get to know every inch of them, from the lichen on the Chinese Ash [Fraxinus chinensis]…
and every little petal on every rhododendron (there are a lot!)…
To one of my favourite trees of all, the stunning fern-leaved beech [Fagus sylvatica 'Asplenifolia']
I think many people forget to look at trees - when was the last time you touched a tree, or felt a quiet calm befall you when you sat under one?
Our garden now contains a miniature flowering cherry, a snowy mespilus and an acer [Acer palmatum 'Orange Dream'] - with more trees to come. I’m looking forward to sitting under their shade on a warm Summer’s afternoon whilst smelling the gorgeous escallonia and the honeysuckle on the breeze. The power of dappled shade on a hot day, or the gentle rustle of leaves should never be underestimated. They are balms for the soul.
But my love of trees has gone on much longer than that - I can remember playing in a lilac tree at the front of our house when I was very young, climbing into its web of branches and thinking what a lovely vantage point I had. Hiding behind trees to avoid something, or someone - undoubtedly playing hide and seek. Or taking refuge under the branches of an enormous Yew at one of the many National Trust properties I went to as a child. Trees are for me, a safe barrier - we can hide in them, touch them, use them and feel at peace near them. And they will remain here many thousands of years longer than us. I must seem awfully geeky, perhaps even a tad insane, but there is even beauty to be found on their name-plates as their names slip off the tongue (and scarily enough, I’m remembering the names better than I remember what is to go on my shopping list!).
When walking through the botanic gardens, I was in awe as the clouds parted and the sun shone to reveal perfect, dappled shade as far as the eye could see. In that moment the words of Gerard Manly-Hopkins‘ “Glory be to god for dappled things…” came to mind, and not having a copy of the poem in front of me - I ad-libbed cheerfully.
And of course, the highlight of the whole visit, was being there to see the Handkerchief tree [Davidia involucrata] in full bloom. What a happy tree, and a marvellous sight to behold, for one very pleased tree-lover.
