Wullie’s Tree - Alison Swanson
Long-listed written pieces of 250 words or under submitted to the 2021 Urban Tree Festival writing competition on the theme of “trees close to you”
Wullie’s Tree
A long long time ago there was an allotment with an old plum tree beside a river. It was Wullie’s allotment. Wullie liked cowboy books, the SNP and making jam in that order. But most of all Wullie liked sitting under the stars with a little fire drinking whisky from a blue and white enamelled tin cup when everyone else had gone home. The faint orange glow was seen across the river, but only by those who knew he was there. After a while Wullie acquired a companion called Tyson. A full 6 stone of hairy tooth and muscle with a mean look who, according to Wullie, “wid neffurr bite a wumman”. And the single shadowy silhouette in the gloaming became two. Every spring Wullie planted a few potatoes to justify keeping his patch, which in the absence of a local prairie was freedom. The wide open sky, with the river nearby brought peace from a past just hinted at. Until gentrification came to town. Professionals and poets, feminists and artists, organic growers and permaculture prophets. Idealism practiced in squares with neat fences by those with the funds for diversions. By people who read different books. A constitution was written, rules were enforced and Wullie didn’t fit. The spark smouldered until it ignited. Wullie and his plum tree are long gone now but for a long time after the blackened tree stump stood visible, the tin cup still hung on its branch. A brand new fence now encircles Wullie’s space.
Alison Swanson: A bus driver’s daughter obsessed with allotments and nature. @swansonam
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