I was shocked this week after we got back from a holiday and went into the village. The lovely old square in front of the Marie had become a building site, filled with rubble and machines where once had stood approximately twenty-four wonderful plane trees. I could have cried. Every year the Mairie had them carefully pollarded and every year they produced their beautiful big green leaves which shaded us from the hot summers. In the autumn they were a mass of colour, so lovely that I took some photos just last autumn. A good thing I did.
There is a plan on the wall near the Mairie showing how the square is to be re-designed. All very nice. But why? I suppose they think it’s progress. I just keep wondering how anyone could rip out all those beautiful trees.
As it was
A Mass of Colour
No matter how nice they make it I’ll never forget the trees. It seems such a bloody waste to destroy something that was so beautiful just to make things different.
Funnily enough my friend Lisa over at Zeebra Designs has just put up two posts:
We sleep, and at length awake to the still reality of a winter morning. The snow lies warm as cotton or down upon the window-sill; the broadened sash and frosted panes admit a dim and private light, which enhances the snug cheer within. The stillness of the morning is impressive… From the eaves and fences hang stalactites of snow, and in the yard stand stalagmites covering some concealed core. The trees and shrubs rear white arms to the sky on every side; and where were walls and fences we see fantastic forms stretching in the frolic gambols across the dusky landscape, as if nature had strewn her fresh designs over the fields by night as models for man’s art.
Henry David Thoreau (1817 – 1862)