It is an oak tree, a pin oak, which should grow into a tall elegant tree which goes a scarlet red in autumn.
We were very pleased that a good number of people came, mainly locals. The park keepers who will look after the tree from now on had known Max, and they were very sympathetic to us.
Earlier in the day they dug a large hole and placed the tree in it, leaving a trench all around. They suggested that those who wanted to could place a spadeful of earth in the trench, which most of us did. Anna Myers then read a poem called Praise of a Man by Norman McCaig, which gave a flavour of Max's personality. After that many of us went on to the Irish.
It was a moving and sad event but I feel satisfied that Max now has a fitting place that we can call his own.
And happily the park escaped the worst of the tornado the following day.
We are thinking of holding a picnic in the park around the tree sometime in the summer for those who would like to have come to the planting but were unable to do so, and everyone else of course.
Victoria
The park keepers planting the tree
Rosy
Theo
Anna reading
More of the people there
2 comments:
Your right Victoria it is really nice now that Max has got his own place, and one that is fitting.
It came as no suprise to me either that the day it was planted a huge wind storm tested it's reserves and it stood strong through out.
It was a hard but needed day. I couldn't think of a better place for Max to rest. We will look after him eternally.
Ize
This is the poem Anna read:
Praise of a Man
Norman MacCaig (1910-96)
He went through a company like a lamplighter -
see the dull minds, one after another,
begin to glow, to shed
a beneficent light.
He went through a company like
a knifegrinder - see the dull minds
scattering sparks of themselves,
becoming razory, becoming useful.
He went through a company
as himself. But now he's one
of the multitudinous company of the dead
where are no individuals.
The beneficent lights dim
but don't vanish. The razory edges
dull, but still cut. He's gone: but you can see
his tracks still, in the snow of the world.
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