A buzzard drifts over an avenue in the park. Shredded by the last storm, the lime trees’ intricate tracery bleeds into a grey afternoon as the sun melts like butter in a pan. None of the details are solid or reliably material – fading light, mizzle, shadow – sodden earth and ditchwater sky are bridged by trees that seem to flicker out of focus.
This fade to black feels more prescient for the future of trees and the living world now than it once did. For example, plans for the Shrewsbury northern relief road include the removal of many trees, including a 550-year-old veteran named Darwin’s oak, so called because Charles Darwin grew up just down the road and would have known this tree. Darwin would also have known the great Shelton oak nearby, which had a girth of 26ft, according to JG Strutt’s 1826 Sylva Britannica, but was blown down in the 1940s, its remains removed to build a road.
