Poems, stones, trees

Something caught my ear on the radio about wild places and attempts to write about them. There was a recording of Ted Hughes reading Sylvia Plath's poem 'Wuthering Heights' ...

"There is no life higher than the grasstops

Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind

Pours by like destiny, bending

Everything in one direction.

I can feel it trying 

To funnel my heat away.

If I pay the roots of the heather

Too close attention, they will invite me

To whiten my bones among them."

Simon Armitage was in the Pennines talking about the Stanza Stones.  Seven poems have been carved into stones on the moor between Marsden and Ilkley, putting words into the landscape, left to age and weather for people to find as they walk there for years to come.

The project has caused a bit of a stir locally, as always happens when money is spent on art.  Words such as 'desecration' have been used.

Still, it's far worse to cause no reaction at all, nor stir up any kind of emotion.

Stanza stone

It's high time I paid homage to trees.  An ancient soul in ages past (can't remember his name) refered to trees as 'an esteemed vegetable', and quite right too.  It is a massive omission that they haven't had a mention on these pages yet.

My garden isn't big enough to grow trees in, apart from a small apple, but I have favourites I like to visit.

The old Beech by the Priory

the beech that could be an Ent

The very first day I came to this town I made my way up the hill, past the Castle and on to the Priory.  This fast became a familiar walk and the huge grey beech growing high above the wall at the back of the Priory always makes me stop and look, seeing more to admire every time.

In full leaf with the air rushing through it sounds like the sea, on quieter days more of a whisper, immensely reassuring.

It also gives a generous dark green shade to rest inside, a great place to think.

This tree is good company and I'm just glad it's there. It also reminds me to look up, which is a good thing.

 

The Great Holker Lime

'In the 17th century it was the fashion to plant lime trees in Britain.  It's vigorous geometry suited the new landscape of walks and avenues radiating across Europe after the model of Versailles.

The Holker lime is probably  a survivor from a formal layout of the early 18th century, when a great house was built here by the Lowther family.  Later the estate was inherited by the brother of the 4th Duke of Devonshire to form one of the string of Cavendish palaces.  Today the tree belongs to his descendant Lord Cavendish who has given it the freedom of the garden.'

So writes Thomas Pakenham in his brilliant book 'Meetings with Remarkable Trees.'

The Great Holker Lime is a cathedral of a tree, standing in a cavern formed by it's overhanging branches of lush green light.

It's great girth measures an impressive 26feet, making it an official British champion, and a challenge to any tree-hugger.

It stands 72 feet tall.  Ten feet up the grey bole disappears into a complicated tangle of whiskers then emerges as a dozen separate trunks.

In June the tree makes a bower of pale green that sweetens the air with it's flowers and hums with bees.  It's easy to believe this ancient tree is home to hidden folk, little people, sprites and elves.

After spending time in it's splendid company you leave with a green calm inside and a sense of deep comfort.  And awed, knowing this lime existed long before you did and will probably go on existing long after.

the garden lake