It’s one of the classic consequences of a tree’s longevity that as it reaches its most impressive age, the physical bulk usually diminishes with the years. The Marton Oak has at least retained a palimpsest of its former full-trunked magnificence, because four separately curving remnants at least indicate the tree’s circumference in its prime. It has also retained this hollowed-out shape for 200 years and even now measures 14 metres at human-chest height.
What is most moving is its age. It’s considerably older than the better-known Major Oak of Sherwood Forest and may be Europe’s oldest individual sessile oak. It has long been celebrated in books and articles and listed in inventories of ancient trees, and is the subject of frequent pilgrimage. I cherish, however, that this 1,400-year-old has a deep preference for the quotidian, because all this venerable life is slap-bang in someone’s garden (and visits require prior permission).
