Searching for my Happily Ever After.

If I were a tree, I would be a yew. They grow near graveyards and their branches are all twisted out and confused.

Did you know why yews grow near graveyards? It's because their branches catch the evil spirits and don't let them do any harm, and their roots go down into the mouths of the dead. I heard that once, after a heavy rainstorm, such as the ones that are common in these parts, the rain and heavy wind disturbed the earth and made it tremendously muddy, the rain washing the mud down onto the roads. The morning after the storm people passing by the graveyard found body after body caught up in the roots of the yew tree, disturbed from their graves by the storm. Yew trees live forever.

I found out that they have deadly poison in them. I didn't know that until today. I always climb the one in Bishopstoke, near Nan. I never once thought I was putting myself in danger. I suppose its only if you digest the sap... Nan told me that in King Henry VIII's day, he rode up through Bishopstoke on his way to somewhere more important, and tied his horse to the very yew tree I climb. When he took the horse away he left the rope there, tied to the tree. I look at it now and can see the gash and bump in the tree where a rope had been tied many many years ago. But you never know what to believe when you hear folk tales.

See? I bet none of you knew that I know my share of folk tales too. There's plenty about. You just have to listen to people, listen to the environment, listen to the history and songs. Whether you believe it is another matter. Me? I believe both.

I bid you adeiu.