It may sound crazy to most people, and who knows, maybe it is, but yesterday something terrible happened. No, not a plane crash or an earthquake, a tree was cut down. So what? you are all thinking, trees are cut down all the time. And you are right, but this tree was different. For the last ten years of my life, I have watched this particular tree grow. First it was at the level of the fence, and then year by year it reached ever upwards until first I could glimpse a tip of the branch from my window (I live on the first floor for those who do not know me) until finally it filled a tiny corner of my view. In a way, it completed the greenery of my vista because it covered the dismal patch of buildings I used to see and that the other trees could not hide from my sight. So this tree, after all those years of waiting, completed me. More to the point it helped nature too. Now the small birds who previously had to take a big risk in approaching my window to nibble at my birdfeeder finally had cover and could sit safely in the branches of the tree and eat. I have spent many happy hours, sitting quietly and watching the various bird life perching in the branches of that tree, me watching them and they (I am quite sure) watching me. It is the height of summer here and the tree was full of green leaves and it filtered the sunlight through its leaves, filling my room with a dappled light and keeping me cool on the hottest days. I considered myself to be a very lucky person indeed to have that tree outside. So imagine, if you can, how I felt when I heard a terrible crack and watched in horror as this tree fell away from my window. At first all I could do was stare and mutter a quiet 'no'. Then I got up and raced to my window to see what had happened, and there in his yard was the man who had just chopped down the tree. I wanted to yell at him "murderer!", "foul despoiler!", "fiend" ... but what good would that do? The tree whose canopy delighted me, had started with its roots in his property. My delight was his to claim at any time. And so it is that 'my' tree now lies in pieces in the corner of his yard, and those of us who grieve for it, those little birds and I, must do so helplessly and in silence.

Farewell my tree, you were loved dearly.

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What remains of my tree.

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My new, bleaker view.