It’s slow work, but looking after trees has its own rewards
I am a custodian of trees, a guardian of green leaf. And there is nothing greener than new-born leaf, unless it is the kitten-soft needles of spring larch. We have returned to the Danish plot for the bank holiday with summer work to do – and we turn in from the path to a cathedral window of shimmering, shivering life. The trees have come into their own.
The birch are shedding bark, paper thin. Most beech have a fuzz of citrus-green leaf. Other trees are yet reluctant. It has been dry, the soil here sandy this close to the beach. I set up a hose in the sheltered spots under the canopy to give them a kick start before the forecast rain.
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