We had a little bit of a wind last night.
Nothing drastic, just a bit of a Force 10, or a Force 11, and maybe even reaching Force 12 at times.
Once again the poor old Silver Spruce has suffered.
I like that tree. It sits in a corner of the lawn and minds its own business. It's quite a grower too, having just about doubled its size in the last ten or twelve years. I had to cut the bottom branches off just so I could get around it.
The big problem with that tree though is that any time we have a bit of a puff, it tends to shed branches. And when I say branches, each branch is a tree in its own right. Great fuck-off yokes that require a chainsaw to cut 'em up before I can even move 'em.
You may notice from the photograph on the bottom right corner there is another large branch down as a result of the breeze last night? The poor tree is getting a bit threadbare. Like myself.
If I remember correctly, my mother gave that tree to my father as a present about forty five years ago. It was a tiddly pathetic little yoke, only a foot or two in height, but it has managed to grow a bit since.
She probably gave it to him as a birthday present, and it's one of the reasons I don't want to fell it. It's his tree.
Today is his birthday.
He would have been one hundred and one.
He wouldn't have liked being that age.
Thinking of you, Dad.