Lately I’ve been fretting about this tree, the only street tree on this block. I can’t decide whether it’s the buildings that make the tree look miserable, or the tree that makes the buildings look miserable.

I’m also wondering if, in fifty years or so – perhaps sooner if we’re lucky – we might have a better understanding of trees. Maybe we’ll be treating them with more respect. Perhaps we’ll adapt our cities to suit the trees, rather than expect the trees to adapt to the cities. Maybe we’ll even begin to clear large spaces for proper groupings of trees, rather than lifting slabs of concrete here and there.

Meanwhile I’d love to find out if this tree minds being isolated like this, surrounded by buildings rather than forest, and wafted by exhaust fumes rather than fresh air. Perhaps it’s happy, but what happens to its roots beneath the pavement? Where do they go? How and where do they find their water? Is there anything we can do to make it bigger, to help it help us to hold off extreme heat?

It would be so much easier if it could talk.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023