Friday, 30 September 2011
I've loved Nat King Cole's style of singing since I was little, and heard Lazy Crazy Hazy Days on the radio, and one of his much-loved songs came to mind the other day as I swept up the windfall pears in the drive;
I've often thought that the falling leaves are like the tears of the tree, as it fades into its bare winter aspect; the job of fertility has been achieved for this year, the fruits gathered (or, as in my case, allowed to plummet!)....the tree has had a brief time of stardom while everyone admires its crop, but once harvested, it is yet again ignored...
Until the spring, when it will sprout forth new leaf buds; one of the first heralds of the new season. The pear tree at the back of my house was planted here by the previous owners, some time before I was born, so it has to be well over fifty years old. It was part of a garden orchard; nearly all of the other trees have gone, but we felt that the pear tree, hugely overgrown as it was, deserved to stay. The birds like it; squirrels use it as a handy escape route; my two cats enjoy flying up its huge trunk; my previous neighbour brewed the most potent pear wine from its fruit, and this year one of my workmates made chutney with the pears.
I'm glad it's still here.