The Old Linden

The Tree That Keeps the Feast

The Old Linden has flowered over Tedderley’s green every longest day for a hundred years, and means to go on flowering whether the village quarrels beneath it or not.

Come midsummer the whole canopy hangs thick with pale blossom, and the bees work it in a low steady hum you can hear from the lane. The flowers fall in a slow drift over the cart ruts, a dusting like flour. The best linden-flower in the valley comes off this tree, good for cordial and good for garlands. It also keeps drifting back onto the Board no matter how briskly it is swept, which is rather the point of it.

Under the linden runs the Long Board, and at the tree’s foot sits the blessed seat: the honoured place, in the shade, facing the whole table. On the longest evening the village gathers here to drink the sun-down toast together, and the tree stands over the lot of them, dropping blossom into the cordial, entirely unbothered by anyone’s opinion of where they ought to sit.