Borrowdale Yews

‘A living thing produced too slowly ever to decay’

Funny how things coalesce into action. After seeing the lime trees yesterday it put me in mind of these yews that I’ve seen from a distance before on walks from Seathwaite but not up close. A link from grace spurred me to head up there today after some sorting and via the tip and oxfam. It seemed really odd to be off work and most of the Lake District seemed to be closed, even the road up Borrowdale, so I had to detour to get there which meant there was barely a soul about.

Entering the enclosure felt like going into a church. There was something deeply profound sitting with my five decade old back up against a one and a half millennia living soul...both of us looking out across the valley.

The ‘Fraternal Four’ that are in fact the sororal three (I had to look that up having no idea what the sister equivalent of fraternal was). It was good to see a couple of babies in little nursery enclosures - right of picture.
Difficult to photograph so added some extras.

Yew-Trees - William Wordsworth

There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale,
Which to this day stands single, in the midst
Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore:
Not loathe to furnish weapons for the Bands
Of Umfraville or Percy ere they marched
To Scotland's heaths; or those that crossed the sea
And drew their sounding bows at Azincour,
Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Poictiers.
Of vast circumference and gloom profound
This solitary Tree! -a living thing
Produced too slowly ever to decay;
Of form and aspect too magnificent
To be destroyed. But worthier still of note
Are those fraternal Four of Borrowdale,
Joined in one solemn and capacious grove;
Huge trunks! -and each particular trunk a growth
Of intertwisted fibres serpentine
Up-coiling, and inveteratley convolved, -
Nor uninformed with Fantasy, and looks
That threaten the profane; -a pillared shade,
Upon whose grassless floor of red-brown hue,
By sheddings from the pining umbrage tinged
Perennially -beneath whose sable roof
Of boughs, as if for festal purpose decked
With unrejoicing berries -ghostly Shapes
May meet at noontide: Fear and trembling Hope,
Silence and Foresight, Death the Skeleton
And Time the Shadow; there to celebrate,
As in a natural temple scattered o'er
With altars undisturbed of mossy stone,
United worship; or in mute repose
To lie, and listen to the mountain flood
Murmuring from Glaramara's inmost caves.