Extra Ordinary Fictions

Until recently, an ancient larch stood in the meadow behind my house. Then one Sunday morning, without notice, the electricity board came and chopped it down. Because some of its branches were swaying too close to their overhead power lines. The larch is our only native deciduous conifer, and, for well over a hundred years, that tree had told the seasons. It was felled and disintegrated within two hours. Now all that remains of it are a few large pieces of trunk which defied maceration. They now lie in the meadow as a daily reminder that we treat nature very badly.