A Horse… Chestnut

My very Favourite Tree. Why, because as a boy I can remember (from 6 or 7) I would hear the Autumn storms sweep in and be anxious to get out in the morning and scout the ground collecting conkers. I would watch fascinated as bigger boys would hurl large sticks high into the tree canopy and dislodge another fresh harvest.

I had tins and tins of golden squeaky fresh conkers with their outer shells still moist. I did conkering, roasting the chosen ones in an oven, soaked in vinegar but the allure of competition I found disappointing.

My favourite activity was… to line up an arrow of conkers with Sister Fawkes across the narrow lane outside our house and watch passing cars squash them to oblivion, and then we should set them up again, a refill, as if they were empty glasses on a wild west bar. A simple pleasure which passed many an evening.

And then later, we had a set of swings hung in a tree which of course was a... Horse Chestnut.

Now, I love Horse Chestnuts more for the enigma that Spring has finally arrived. As Aesculus hippocastanum suck in the warmer air and breathe in and then out, pumping their leaves up to full size - they become fully clad - a metaphor of new hope and expectation. But the best is watching the array of candle flowers starting to form, to colour, bud and burst. These coronets open from top to bottom and within a week or two a Summer Christmas tree is born.

I am lucky enough to have a young one in the garden - going on 30+ years, this teenage in tree terms is a delight, but sadly in recent years the miner moth has devastated the tree canopy and by mid-summer the leaves are veined and scarred brown.  Cold winters are vital to eradicate the menace unless of course nature over time finds a way.

Still… I'd like to say a grateful thanks to the Horse Chestnut for reminding me of a very rich and happy childhood - which seems preserved in a timeless capsule - and pulsing me with positive vibes, most days as I saddle up and head for work.