He stood and looked up at the tree, and wondered if it was dying. It looked kind of… dishevelled. It had some dead branches at the top that he could not remember seeing when he had been younger. He could not remember seeing so many insects on it either, and having climbed this tree hundreds of times he felt he would have noticed, unless youth and enthusiasm had somehow caused him to overlook what appeared to him now as streams of rather nasty looking ants, tufts of intimidating cobwebs, and thousands of tiny holes each no doubt occupied by some bitty type pest. He’d had it looked at, the tree. Looked at by someone who ought to know a dying tree when he saw one. But according to this guy anyway, a Level 5 Arborist as he’d repeatedly mentioned, the tree was fine.

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