Years ago, after I had known her a few weeks we walked on the heath.
I foolishly agreed to carve the words SHE and I and FOREVER on a tree.
I already had my doubts about her suitability as a muse, so spent the day searching out the tree nearest death. Just in case. I found and chose an old horse chestnut, it's leaves blighted and yellowing.
I carved 'she and I forever' on its elephant bark.
I returned to the tree alone this autumn and found the tree fallen and decaying. My carving obliterated by rot.
Many of the chestnut trees in the Herault (sweet not horse) were presumed decimated by disease decades ago. Or perhaps the errant discarding of shoes in the Region was a sign of profiligacy in love; a foreign scribe at work? We can but marvel at the lumbering fall of so many French beauties.
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