Mourning and Fury
Until last night there was a willow tree growing on the riverbank behind my house. It was the only willow there, and had survived for a couple of years doing what willow trees do - stabilising riverbanks. How convenient. On walking Stella this lunchtime I noticed immediately that the tree was not to be seen. Peering over the edge of the steep and forbidding bank, clad in its burgeoning summer raiment, I saw the casualty, in tact to within the lowest two feet, lying forlorn and defeated in the river. The water had borne it about halfway out and it had become trapped by rocks. Meanwhile, the last two feet of offended trunk stood at an awkward angle, snapped with some force from the remainder of the tree.
There is only one possible explanation in the absence of lightning, storm, or flood, and that is vandalism. One of the local trolls, I mean children, no, I do mean trolls, has decided that swinging from the slender branches of the lovely tree was a good idea. Being somewhat fat, even for trolls (as most of the children are around here), and rather more than somewhat aggressive, has caused fatal damage to the most magical and graceful of species that we had.
The really strange element of this story is that last year I took a cutting of said tree and coaxed it to take root. Having planted it out and seen it take hold in a quiet corner of the garden I went today to check on it, thinking that at least I had something of the tree with which to work in future. The cutting is gone. No shred of it remains, and I cannot explain it.
A lot has been written about asking permission of plants (especially trees) before taking any living part of them for use in magic. In respect of wands it is said that timber collected without the tree's consent will refuse to conduct one's will. However, I am quite convinced that if one is able to harvest carefully and respectfully from any plant without causing it permanent harm then one should not hesitate to do so.
That willow tree and that one alone was *my* tree, from precisely where I live, and was destined in a year or two to bear timber perfect for wands without taking the tree's life or health. Now all hope is lost.