Finest of the trees was a huge Horse Chestnut tree. In Winter its bare branches scratched against the sky. In Spring pale green leaves pushed out of the sticky buds heralding the arrival of the dark pink flower spikes. Throughout the warm Summer months the horse chestnuts grew ever larger so that by the time the Autumn arrived the conkers were big enough to be collected by the local children, ready for battle to commence.
And so years passed and the trees were much admired by the residents.
The house nearest to the clump of trees had a large garden. The trees straddled the fence around the garden. One day the owner of the house decided to sell his property and he thought that it would be a good idea to build another house on his large garden so that he could sell that house too.
Local residents were alarmed. The foundations for the new house would cut through the roots of the Horse Chestnut tree and the branches of the trees would brush against the building.
Despite protests to the Local Council that it would harm the trees, planning permission was granted for the new house to be built. After much lobbing of branches a house was built and the old garden fence was replaced by a new fence. The house was put up for sale but nobody seemed interested in buying a very expensive house with a small garden that was so overshadowed by the clump of large trees. Eventually the house was rented out but the tenants did not stay for very long. They wanted to live somewhere more light and airy.
As Spring arrived the trees burst into bud, except for the Horse Chestnut tree. All through the Summer the other trees flourished but the Horse Chestnut showed no signs of life. When the trees were trimmed before the house was built they showed no signs of disease or old age. Now the Horse Chestnut tree looked distinctly dead. Whatever could have happened to cause its demise?
A few days ago the noise of chain saws and shredders filled the usually quiet neighbourhood. When the residents looked down the road, a very professional looking firm of tree surgeons were working to cut down the Horse Chestnut tree. Within an hour only the tree stump was left and the bright yellow truck drove off taking the trailer full of shredded wood. The next day the arborealists returned to grub out the stump and roots.
Now the residents must use their memories to picture the beautiful tree that so mysteriously died and hope that the other trees in the clump, still 'protected' by the tree presevation order, do not suffer the same fate.
