In the garden of a house that I bought near Andover, in Hampshire, there were two larch tree saplings growing wild in an unsuitable place in the garden. So I moved them to an out-of-the-way spot where they could grow, in freedom without overcrowding or casting unwanted shadows. Though small, they were staked firmly and planted fairly close to each other.
When they had grown into real trees, one bore beautiful little blue flowers on its branches, the other none. So, presumably, they were female and male.
When I last saw them from the nearby lane, they looked very grand, very tall, and very fine. I felt the pleasure of having become a successful larch tree matchmaker.
A friend of some years ago was dying of cancer. Before she died she turned strongly religious. She died.
Before that she gave us a small cutting of a bay tree. This was planted in a suitable pot and allowed to form a five foot high bare trunk with its fragrant leaves on top.
Because she was so keen on God, we named her "Elizabeth's Tree" and formed the top into a cone shape, like an arrow pointing to heaven, where she presumably went.
Perhaps because of its position it thrived initially but went into decline. So I moved it, still in its original pot to another place in our small London garden. In doing so I pruned it with excessive vigour into a proposed ball-shape. This it loved and has now become a thick ball of aromatic leaves atop its bare trunk. It is a fine tree that enhances our garden in its new position.
I don't know if there is any religious significance in all this - me being an atheist and all.
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