I walk and cycle in Phoenix Park in Dublin a lot, and always seem to end up passing this hawthorn tree. It is kind of lonely on its own, located between an old fort and a group of much bigger trees. It seems to stand guard over the hill that it sits in front of.
As strange as it sounds, I really respect this tree. Despite the mix of weather to which it is subjected – from sharp frosts due to its exposed position to summer droughts – it holds its ground and never fails to catch my attention.
The hawthorn is a common tree in Ireland, yet each one seems to be slightly different, as if carved out by the conditions found in that exact spot. In the dead of winter, they look to me like they will never sprout another leaf – but, of course, come spring, they leap into blossom.
