musings of cherry trees and the past

For giving you the wow factor, nothing beats cherry blossom at this time of year. Its blossom may only last for a couple of weeks, but for the other fifty weeks you are looking forward to it. 

(Cherry blossom in full bloom)

Close to the home of my childhood stands a clump of cherry trees. Their pendulous canopies, fecund with blossom almost touches the pavement. Every gust of wind results in a cascade of organic confetti. They occupy what was once one of the only green spaces in that heavily industrial heartland of the English Midlands. Known to everyone as 'the patch', it was home to hundreds of games of football in winter, cricket in the summer, and probably more than the odd amorous courting couple. 'The patch' is somewhat more mounded now, more of a bank than it ever was before, and is now dissected by a slip road offering access to a car park. 

(Reminiscent of Van Gogh's 'Almond Blossom' here)

(Up close and personal)

Although large, the trees there are hardy forty-year-olds; the horizontal lenticels on their bark tells me they are Prunus avium, the wild or bird cherry. Twisted roots show themselves around the base of the trunk, like tentacles slowly inching their way, gaining more purchase to support the heavy canopy. Their blossom is utterly beautiful and yet they would have been totally out of place in that area of my childhood. That area of noise and grime, factories and iron foundries, coal merchants, flour mills and canal barges, public houses and greengrocers. 

All swept away to make a ring road. 

The area was known as a 'town-within-a-town'. You could buy everything you needed locally and only perhaps venture 'up town' on Friday or Saturday. But this was no rose tinted Alan Bennett idyll. Life was tough, work was hard and dirty, yet it was home to those who were displaced and still home to those whom remain. The saddest casualties were those who had to leave their homes to make way for progress. Rows of houses remained empty for years, waiting to be demolished, decaying and vandalised whilst they waited. Gardens once tended became overgrown wildernesses. The odd flower showing itself amongst the long grass that was once manicured lawn. 

And now you would never believe any of this existed; where once stood a community, but now stands a road and cherry trees. 

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