The Elm Tree

Is it true that stormy weather affects the behaviour of children? Remember back to your own younger, formative years when the prospect of a storm brought a sense of fear and anticipation in equal measures. I lived as a child in a modern house built in the 1970's but with a huge and ancient Elm Tree in the back garden and bordering onto the headland of farmers fields. The tree provided a shady spot from the midday sun, a filter for the ash debris when Flixborough Chemical Plant exploded, served as an incubator for fascinating insects ,a source of swords and weapons from the periodic shedding of branches and a fascinating array of fungus and organic growths to poke at with a sharp stick. All of these were a delight in daylight hours but after dark and with the unpredicatability of gale force winds the tree took on the persona of a thing of great fear. My bedroom overlooked the Elm and the sheer raking movement under the duress of a strong westerley was something to be in awe of. Coupled with the sounds of creaking boughs and, when in full canopy, the swish and swosh of the heavy leaf cover that was enough to seek shelter under the bed covers or if above storm force 6, in the wardrobe. The tree, if subject to the trauma of major structural weakness or failure, was easily within striking distance of the house and this lessened my feelings of confidence in the bricks, mortar and tiles of my home. Tree and House remained however apart and separate entities although after one particularly violent autumn storm a large foliage section fell to the ground just missing the beloved Kelloggs sourced climbing frame. This severed limb of the tree remained for some considerable time and became a popular seat, fortress, den and a place to take out your family frustrations with another sharp stick. It was a sad day when the tree surgeon confirmed that the fungal canker in the central trunk position was Dutch Elm Disease. Us misguided children declared an equivalent plague on the whole nation of The Netherlands for importing this terminal illness and we all danced a dance of war around the smokey remains of the tree after it was chopped down. There was a huge gap in our lives and also the rear boundary after this event. In commemoration my parents did buy and plant some silver birch trees but we could not wait, as children, to the time when these would be as mighty and intimidating as the Elm. Storms were never quite as frightening after that time.