Whip Willow and Twigs Birch stood, aghast. Twigs spoke first. ‘Did you know?’
Whip shook convulsively. ‘Just there was this old lady who needed her roots doing. Nothing like this.’
‘She doesn’t need a prune, she needs a digger. How can she manage with them so… so…’
‘Exposed?’
‘Extraneous. And whose roots are those? That old fella. He’s not even the same species. Oak and Ash. Have you ever done a male’s roots.’
‘Darling, you know I haven’t. Who called us in?’
‘Oh one of those Second Age Sylvanians. Apparently Ash, she’s the old lady has been moaning at night and the warden was worried about her roots…’
‘Well quite.’
‘Thought she might have a fall and at her age…’
‘Could be fatal…’
‘Exactly. But I think that stupid beech on reception…’
‘That’s not nice, Whip. I know there’s a bit of negativity about her…’
‘Beech, Darling, I said beech.’
‘Oh sorry.’
‘That’s alright. Rowan isn’t it? I think Rowan misunderstood about the roots, thought she wanted us to frimp her foliage…’
‘You do frimp beautifully.’
‘Thank you sweetness. So the Tonsorial Tree Tweakers are dispatched in error.’
‘We ought to do something. Cover her up a little. I mean it’s really rather unseemly. At her age, don’t you think?’
Whip nodded and shuffled forward. ‘Hallo? Ash is it? How are you?’
The old lady groaned, twisting left and right. ‘Just a mo, lovely. I need to try and loosen some of these knots. Terrible they are.’ An almighty crack and her canopy quivered briefly. ‘There. How can I help?’
Whip tried to avert his eyes from the show of stems and stalks that curled by his trunk. ‘We, that’s Twigs and me, wondered if you needed a hand. A bit of cover, you know.’
Ash’s crown tilted forward. ‘Upset you, do they? They’re natural, you know. Even you have roots.’
Whip shuffled self-consciously burying himself a little further into the loamy earth.
‘Thing is Whip, me and the Bl’oak here are a mite fed up with all those saplings hustling us for space, saying there’s room for another one. We’ve been here a long time. You can’t live in overcrowded conditions and thrive. It ain’t natural. So we decided to pull up our roots and show them just how much space we need. And if they don’t like a flash of the fleshy bits, well they can go and plant themselves somewhere else. It’s a protest movement we’re starting.’
Whip tugged at Twigs trunk, easing her away. ‘I think we should go.’
‘They’ve got a point, you know.’
‘Maybe but I’m a tree dresser, not an arboreal anarchist. What say you we get ourselves a sappuchino and see what’s next?’
This is written in response to the latest prompt from Sue Vincent’s #writephoto stable
The Geoff speaks for the trees.
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I’d be happy to be part of the tree lobby
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Would you don the traditional garb?
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Of course. A pair of trunks
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You didn’t.
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My budgie smugglers are famous…
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I rather like the idea of arboreal anarchy 🙂
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It’s something I’d sign for
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🙂
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Tree for two and two for tree. (Suggested motto and T-shirt.)
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Ho, John.
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😀
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Just what I needed to read with my coffee. Loved this!
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Thank you Susan. My gran used to tell of roasted acorns as a coffee substitute during the war. Not sure that’s relevant beyond your comment triggered that memory. I imagine it was unutterably ghastly.
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Yes ghastly to say the least 🙂
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Oh this is brilliant!!!
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Ta muchly. I think I want to be a tree when I grow up…
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😁
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Some very good word plays here, GEoff.
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They are my lifeblood, those and puns, natch…
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Great use of the image! I’ve been reading/listening about trees recently – there’s a German fellow Peter Wohlleben and ‘The Hidden Life of Trees’ and a really good novel ‘The Overstory’ by Richard Powers. The uprising is underway 🙂
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I’m sure there is more to the sentience of trees than we currently imagine.
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Yep!
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The live of trees – I’m up for a saperillio.
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Drunk from acorn cups
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My kind of story, and there’s no way you’re barking mad!
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I bough to your superior knowledge
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I weep by your leaf sir.
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I loved this!
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Thanks Jennie
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You’re welcome, Geoff.
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