Niki and the spooky Beech tree

I met Niki at a community event and after chatting about his favourite trees – the weeping larch in Kelburn Castle and a tree he’d call ‘Big Spooky’, found in Rosshall Park – we met up to visit Rosshall Park and see the tree in person.  It’s a truly spectacular beech tree, grown on a grand scale and commanding significant control over the feel and atmosphere of the path that passes underneath. 

Niki attributes his love of the outdoors to a particular stage of growing up when he lived in proximity to the hills and used to go out regularly, becoming accustomed to being out in nature and in all weathers, too.  He is now studying horticulture and is already very knowledgeable about trees, and he proved to be the perfect tour guide around this hidden gem of a park.

My surname is McCrossan which is Irish and means Son of the Rhymer. Back in the 16th Century we were an offshoot of heraldic Bards to the O'More clan. With this in mind I will write a wee poem about trees in general:

A tree, Oh a tree, nothing be so fair,
From the smallest of seeds it reaches up high into the air.
A playground for a wee boy or girl,
A safe place to run for cover, if you're a fluffy squirrel.
A shelter, a roost, a harvest,
Part of our very lung,
It gives a branch to the nightingale so chirping may be sung.
Its roots go deep, reminding us of ours,
The ancient sorcerers friend, holding magic powers.
A place of worship for long ago Sages,
A mighty and steadfast testament of the ages.
A tree, Oh a tree, nothing be so fair.