Once upon a time, long before any of us can remember, a tiny seed fell to the ground near an ancient tower. It took root, stretched toward the sky, and slowly — year by year, ring by ring — grew into a great and mighty sycamore.
She stood watch over Monimail Tower for generations. She knew the tower when its stones were already old. She sheltered those who sheltered beneath her. She shaded summers, held the wind, and quietly witnessed everything that passed in this corner of Fife.
But even the oldest and greatest of trees must one day rest. Slowly, at her roots, the rot crept in — as it does for all ancient things — and so, with heavy hearts, the time came to say farewell. She had to be brought down, gently and with care, before she could cause harm to those she had always protected.
We could not count her years. Unlike the ash that fell before her — taken by a storm two winters ago — her rings would not give up their secrets so easily. Perhaps she preferred to keep a little mystery.
Her trunk has been cut into great rounds, and one beautiful was left to be planked by Jezz — destined, one day, to become a table, made by Henry from Monimail Makers. And so her spirit will not leave us. She will remain here at Monimail or somewhere else in the world, changed in form but not in presence, for many generations still to come.
Thank you, old girl, for everything you witnessed and everything you gave.
P.S. The Monimail Makers by Henry invites all of you to Fife Open Studios days in May. More info soon.
