Goodbye trees

It's not their fault they're ugly, or huge or un-indigenous. They didn't ask to be planted where they did. The poor old Leylandii with it's fearsome reputation, the stuff of neighbourly disputes and unbridled hatred. Oh the poor old Leylandii.

We have about ten of them at the bottom of our tiny garden. They prevent people looking into to our space and provide a woodland-glade feel, our garden is small but perfectly private and contained. The trees also make wonderful hidey-holes and dens, if you squeeze through them to the back of our land you will find rows of mud pies, stews and garden-gourmet delights for the Queen of Nature. The trees protect and hide her dinner, they gently hug and look after my children allowing them space away from me, a space of their own.

And as you can tell by the title of this blog, they are going next Thursday. I haven't told them, I think they would rather not know. It is not my decision, but a new neighbours, who would rather something native in their place. I don't think I will be able to watch.

When I was five, my mum took me on a walk, I remember it well. It was a National Trust sort of place, maybe I was younger than five as I don't remember my sister being around, but I can recall so clearly a tree being felled. I remember the chainsaw killing the tree and I bawled when it fell. The adults probably tittered at my sensitivity, awwww bless her they might have commented. My mum remembers it like yesterday but she doesn't have to remind me, I can see the tree now and I can feel how I felt when it crashed to the ground.

So I'm going out next Thursday, all day. Our privacy will be gone before the natives grow high enough to shelter our garden again.

Goodbye Leylandii, I liked you very much even if no one else did.