This area of the UK had record breaking – 11 cold nights a while ago.
The Furlong flat has a back garden with a stunning very large kind of unidentified Tropical Palm tree in it. It grew from an unidentified tiny thing bought by the previous owner at the Sunday market many years ago. The Furlongs have been here almost seven years during which it produced yet another shoot that must have grown two meters in that time. We’ve loved it. The birds have loved it. It has produced many baby birds from the haven of its fronds.
It’s about those fronds which hang down at the end of their lives and fall off now and again, or are blown off during high winds. The Furlongs have to pick them up. It’s a nuisance we have endured in exchange for beauty.
Several weeks ago, everything changed. ALL the fronds turned a funny colour, and ALL of them despatched themselves all over our garden. It became overwhelming. The thick palm boles split open and I suspected a fungus, or a disease of some kind.
We called for help from The Tree Man who had worked for us in our last village. He and his side kick did a magnificent first clean up. The fronds are still lurching themselves all over the garden, so when they have all dropped off Mr Tree Man and his side kick will come again.
Mr Tree Man KNOWS stuff about trees.
He tells us that in our area ALL the Palms are dying.
They are not dying from disease, they are dying from – 11 nights during the last cold snap.
Our King is dead.
But Mr Tree Man is not going to dig it out just yet, only cut it down. There might be a remote chance that it might produce an heir.
Our King is dead. Long live our King!
The Last Furlong 