The Cherry Tree
Marking the boundary between the orchard known as La Pasera and the pasture known as La Vega has stood a cherry tree for as long as anyone can remember.
Spawned from the fruit of past generations, cast from the loving gesture of a young couple as they shared fruit and shaded from the late afternoon sun. The old cherry tree has lived to tell its own story, narrated through its magnificent branches, a yearly abundance of flowers and fruit, lush green foliage, twisted bark and battle scars.
The old cherry tree is known by many and was always renowned for its sweet, plump, juicy, red cherries. Jose the farmer remembers his father collecting baskets full of ripe and plentiful fruit. He remembers as a little boy, how his father told him tales of how he courted his mother like his grandfather before him had courted his grandmother and how they spent many day, lounging under the shade of the tree, climbing and chasing each other through its sturdy framework of branches and holding each other tight on a bough near the crown of the tree. Of how they sat, as a gentle flurry of blossom fell, holding each other and dreaming into the sunset as it travelled behind the distant woodland and journeyed on, eventually setting over La Vega.
The old cherry tree shares its magnificence with other life that is rarely seen, occasionally heard and rarely considered. On closer inspection, other worlds inhabit every crevice from the roots to the crown; life in one form or another is abundant.
The ants’ procession navigates the peaks and troughs of twisted and scarred bark, seeking out aphids, rotting fruit and nectar. The spiders wait patiently for insects blown towards their webs woven through the networks of twigs and leaves. Birds visit to rest, mate, feed, squabble and squawk and sing. Blackbirds, jay, magpie, red start and long-tailed tits compete for the tree’s favours along with wrens, warblers, blue tits, creepers, owls and raptors. Each species having its own time, each moving on as their day or night unfolds.
Moths, butterflies, beetles and glow worms deposit eggs and larvae, confident in their choice of host, trusted as a nursery and temporary crypt. Emerging at times when few stir, with misty mornings providing moisture to hydrate and strengthen beating wings.
The old cherry tree is dying; its life is coming to a close. Ravaged by time, scarred by burrows and chambers that are drilled and opened by the woodpeckers as they hunt for grubs, burnt by careless builders who lit and burnt rubbish just too close for comfort, decomposing its majesty with the help of fungus and woodlice. Maybe another 10 years, maybe longer, its life drains away slowly, replenishing all that lives with it in its final years. A large oak has outgrown it and now invades its space and robs its light. A weak walnut tree competes for light and sustenance with both.
The cherries are still there but in fewer number and too high to harvest. The lower branches are fragile and barely support the weight of an agile tabby cat that investigates a bird box nailed high on the trunk. A black cat hunts from nearby rocks, watching for small rodents, lizards and slow worms as they secretly circumnavigate the twisted roots and hollows. In the lush grass growing around the base of the tree, toads seek snacks of snail and slugs, earthworms and flies. As each year passes, the old cherry tree becomes weaker, its frame thins and its days draw to a close.
Just out of the shade of its canopy, is growing a young and healthy cherry tree. Rooted firm on the boundary between the house and garden that occupies the orchard once known as known as La Pasera and the pasture that is known as La Vega. Maybe one day, stories will be told about it, maybe one day, as its forebear did, it’ll support a hammock strung between it and the walnut tree, swaying gently back and forth as its occupant stares up into a hundred years of history, maybe one day, our children’s children will taste the fruit and dream into the sunset.
© Ian Hicken 2011
