This cedar at Charlecote seemed particularly monumental, then I read about these trees in Mary Elizabeth Lucy’s autobiography. She lived there from 1823. The beauty of trees is that they have long memories.

and can remind you of days gone by. Like this chestnut tree at Hever Castle, home of Anne Bolyne

What tales it could tell; Henry VIII, cavorting in its shadow, but it is discrete, it looks away and stays mum, a survivor.

Here’s another survivor; a chestnut at Ightham mote, in Kent. You can tell its a sweet chestnut, even in winter, by its spiraling bark.

Here’s a relative youngster, not Bill, he’s there for scale — another chestnut, this time at Upton House. The heritage trees at National Trust Properties can be huge but don’t get the attention from visitors that they deserve. It’s usually on the way home that I wish I had brought my tape measure to record their girth and try to work out their age.

Monterey pines at Plas Newydd on the Anglesey bank of the Menai strait, only about the same age of me, but beautifully lopped by the tree surgeons of the National Trust, to grow straight and tall and strong.

Here’s a hedge with attitude. Yew hedge at Powys Castle.