The Tree Man

I take my now routine twice-daily stroll through our nearby green. What used to be merely the route to the local shops, is now the heart of local activity, and a very welcome respite from the loneliness of the house.

It’s even busier than usual, today being Sunday, and the sun being out. The small park is littered with whole families playing ball, Frisbee, rounders. There are groups on bikes too, little ones on scooters or with stabilisers still attached, and every size upwards. There are a couple of people doing yoga, stretching and bending, doing their sun salutation amidst the dog walkers and runners. It’s beautiful.

Nearly every family group has two parents and I’m struck by how unusual that feels. There are plenty of couples too, many walking their dogs, or simply getting some fresh air and a break from the house. And of course, people jogging the perimeter or speed walking a few laps.

It does make me wonder how we used to spend Sunday afternoons before the C-Word hit. Where were all these people before the (almost) lock down? And more importantly, we will still be here when the pandemic is long behind us?

Of course there were family activities before Covid hit. We gathered and socialised; we congregated and had fun. I know my Sunday mornings were frequently spent on the side of a pitch, watching my guys play a Gaelic or soccer match. Some of us (not me) would no doubt have been on a treadmill at the gym. And then there would have been visits to family and friends, weekends away, play dates…..

No doubt some of these families would have been in parks anyway; we just didn’t notice each other because we had too many distractions going on. And actually, that’s the really striking thing: people are really engaged with each other. Parents have set up obstacle courses on the green to amuse their little ones; they are timing their kids doing laps, making a competition of the chance to have them run off some steam; couples are arm in arm, hand in hand, not rushing, no hurry, just taking it all in. Phones largely remain in pockets. I don’t like the phrase, but they really seem to be ‘in the moment’.   

As I come towards the far end of the park, I can see some activity amongst the trees. There are leaves flying everywhere, and it’s not until I get close that i can see a man hacking at the tree trunks with a machete. I look along the line of trees and realise that he’s been working systematically from right to left and he’s got almost halfway through. He’s hacking off the ivy that has grown up around the trunks, from the ground to his head height.  That’s a lot of ivy.

I stop for a chat.

‘Would the ivy kill the trees?’ I ask. I know the answer but I’d like to chat to this guy and it’s an easy opener.

He stops and steps down onto the path for a chat, taking some deep breaths from all the activity. He explains at some length the damage ivy does and points out a couple of trees which he’s left with their green cladding, because they are already dead.

‘So, are you with the local authority?’ I ask.  

‘Oh no. I just really like trees.’

Martin and I chat for half an hour. He tells me about his parents’ death; how his mother was welsh and he loves singing, and how he developed his love of gardening.   

‘I’m very glad to have met you’ I tell him as the dog finally drags me away, ‘and thank you for looking after the trees’.   

Aren’t people wonderful?