Mourning the loss of a majestic beech tree
The fallen beech now appears like an old elephant or some larger prehistoric monster, half dead, half alive. Picture: Pat McCarrick
That is the introduction given by the Woodland Trust in their information about the beech tree. In this short paragraph they give some idea of this wonderful tree and the many gifts it has to offer.
Apart from the parklands of the great estates, it can be difficult enough to find an old beech tree, a tree that has stood the test of time and survived a succession of storms. An occasional specimen will turn up here and there along the rivers of the Ox Mountains and where they do, they are a thing of beauty, a sight to behold.
I live in a place that was once part of a small mountain farm, where along a nearby tributary of the river Moy, there stood a huge beech.
How it survived the nibbles of mountain sheep and hungry cows to reach its great height was a minor miracle. Its spreading leaves and arching boughs were a glorious manifestation of creation. I was therefore very saddened to see it uprooted and thrown to the ground in recent times by Storm Éowyn. How a tree so large and so heavy could be undone by the power of wind gives some indication to the awesome strength of that same storm.
I often walked the grassy path that led to the tree’s location. Arriving in the space under that tree was like entering a huge circular cathedral. Under its branches, I felt secluded, protected. The carpet of last winter’s leaves only added welcome to a place where birdsong entered but summer sun could not. It was the ideal location for a simple picnic with a child or a few moments of reflection. The background music of a passing stream only adding to the sacredness of the whole experience.
In folklore and mythology, the beech tree is often associated with knowledge, wisdom, and a link to the feminine. It is considered a comforter of the soul and believed to have the power to “dissolve unpleasant thoughts”. In some traditions, the beech is used for divination and even accepting wishes that are believed to come true when buried among its roots. Little wonder I felt so secure under its parasol of green.
That was an excerpt from by Jane Gifford. Gifford goes on to explain further about the beech and its connection to the written word.
According to an article in (US, January 2025), traditionally, the wood or timber of the beech has been of great value.
Long ago, English bodgers crafted the legs of Windsor chairs from beech trees they felled in the forest. The long-wearing wood also became peasant footwear in the shape of shoes and clogs. And in the iron smelters of Germany, France, and England, beech was the fuel. Because beech bends as readily as ash, it works well for chair legs and backs. In fact, this under-used wood could be made into any type of interior furniture, cabinets, flooring, and trim. Woodturners use beech for items such as goblets with delicate stems. It's also ideal for food-use vessels like cutting boards and spoons because it imparts no odour or taste, and takes abuse.
The old beech I mentioned earlier, which seemed indestructible, had in hindsight, become compromised. Shelter on its southern side had been cut away in recent years and the mountain stream that ran alongside had dredged a deeper channel close to its roots. Having said that, I still cannot imagine the force that the recent storm exerted upon this mighty tree to knock it down.
Now that summer is approaching, I revisit the scene of the crime. Dead and dying pieces, that were once part of a whole living, functioning tree, lay scattered around. The disturbed earth around its roots and the damage caused to surrounding trees by the felling resemble a site where an aeroplane might have crashed. It is a scene of destruction, loss, and indeed, death itself.
Amazingly, these days, the mighty beech is again showing slight signs of growth. It seems that it still has a small foothold in the riverbank and so it clings to hope; its upper side, continuing to stretch skywards, has sprouted a few new leaves. While most parts of the tree will never live again, some of it at least is fighting for survival.
It reminds me of Shakespeare's great line in : “Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come."
Another thing I noticed about the fallen beech was that among its realigned boughs there were hidden landscapes. Scenes along its great trunk, hidden while it stood tall, are now on display at eye level. In the same way that an exhibition in an art gallery might be rearranged to freshen it up, so the prone beech now offers a whole new interpretation of itself. The photographs I have included with his article are taken from this new ‘exhibition’.
The fallen beech now appears like an old elephant or some larger prehistoric monster, half dead, half alive. It clings to life but really, its days are numbered. Its passing is a reminder that nothing ever stays the same; change will come and death is inevitable. The old tree, despite its greatness, met a force greater than itself and that, as they say, was that. It seems no matter how great we perceive something to be, there is always a power that will one day catch us out. The trick is to enjoy the mighty beech while she still lives and accept, with grace, her inevitable passing.
- From by Norman Hadley
