User:Thomasofthew

dear wiki users, im adding my english essay here so that i can get it at school as, because of blocking, i cannot get it in on cd / get to my hotmail from school. if anyone cares enough, feel free to delete this page after 6/12/07

or now if you really really do have a problem....

kindest regards

tom

Usually, in late autumn and about the time when people start to wrap up for the winter, the great oak trees in Oakley Park begin to shed their leaves. A small storm of colour will fall from each tree onto the frosted earth and each individual layer of leaves builds up on the ground creating a blanket for the soil, rotting away into the earth before spring and providing nourishment for new life to blossom under the oaks. Oakley Park is a park not unlike most other parks in that in it there is some pathway, a pond that occasionally fills with ducks, and a slide. At the end of the path that sweeps around Oakley Park in a loop which curtails the duck pond, is a great Oak tree. This tree is semi famous among the locals for it is a very old tree, some say 16th centaury, some say 12th, but however old it is, it seemed very important to them and so they named it. However, never being not much more than simple folk and never having to name that much more than the occasional foal, they unanimously named it: 'The Great Oakley Oak'.

The park keeper, a sixty something Mr. Herbert Grimes, lives at the edge of the park near the heavy wrought iron gates, in a small house which he thinks respectable for a single man of his age, occupying the profession of a park keeper. Mr. Grimes has been the Park Keeper of Oakley Park for a good many years now and, although his knees are a bit dodgy in the cold and his heart isn't really as good as it should be, he still manages to keep up with the job. Mr. Grimes gets up everyday around eight and, after breakfast and depending on the weather, sometimes goes for a walk around the park before starting his morning routine of things to be done. It was on one of these walks, during which time Mr. Grimes's thoughts were mostly centered on grass cutting, the lack of it, and on the old heavy lawn roller which he had a substantial hatred for, that he first noticed that the Great Oak tree looked slightly different to the other oaks around the park, indeed, to the other trees around the park. He didn't realise it at first, but then, slowly as Mr. Grimes wasn't accustomed to this degree of mental aerobics at this time in the morning, he noticed what was different: The Great Oak tree still had every one of its leaves. This seemed unusual to Mr. Grimes as he knew the month was almost September, and that usually by this time The Great Oakley Oak had usually shed at least half of its leaves, as he remembers last year having to rake them all up. He had hurt his back last year doing all the raking. He had had to take it easy for a week, hot baths, lots of sleep, cod liver oil. Mr. Grimes hated cod liver oil. Forgetting the mild curiosity of the leaves for the moment, Mr. Grimes continued on his morning stroll and did not think about the matter again for at least a week.

In fact, he was only reminded of it a week later when a young man approached him during, what Mr. Grimes thought to be, a fairly intense period of grass cutting he had finally got around to doing. The strange young man had seemed polite enough and, although Mr. Grimes didn't like his fashionable haircut which he thought was nothing short of silly, he had seemed to have some kind of knowledge of plants, botany and other such likes. Their conversation went something like this:

'Hello there,' the man had said, somewhat with an inquisitive nature and with an accent that was hard to place, not that Mr. Grimes could recognise many accents as it wasn't often that Mr. Grimes talked to strange folk, their mannerisms and appearance being somewhat daunting to simple people, of which Mr. Grimes thought himself to belong to. 'Hello,' Mr. Grimes had replied. 'I was wondering, good keeper, if you could tell me if it was usual that that large oak over there, be loosing its leaves so late in the season, whereas all those other oaks [he motioned to the smaller oaks in Oakley Park] have already lost their leaves.' 'Oh!' said Mr. Grimes, slightly relieved the question wasn't about anything he couldn't answer, and slightly annoyed that the man was questioning the trees in Oakley Park, which for a very long time indeed had always been properly of conduct, and by that he meant had obeyed the seasons rather well- losing their leaves in autumn and flowering in spring. 'I'm not sure sir; I seem to remember it losing its leaves last year, for I had to rake them all up! Hurt my back doing that I did, had to rest for at least a week...' The stranger mused the park keepers reply for a second or so, thanked Mr. Grimes, before giving one last look at the tree and wandering off into the park, the hem of his long brown coat flicking up behind him with the bitter autumn breeze.

By the middle of November, more and more people had begun to look at the Great Oakley Oak with passing curiosity. Its leaves were still as green as always, much to the delight of the last few birds nesting deep in its branches. It began to look very out of place amongst all the other bare trees in the park, for there were no evergreen trees in the park as Mr. Grimes did dislike them; he thought their spines made the grass prickly to sit on. People began to talk about it having been a long summer passed, or that because the tree was so big it took longer to realise it was winter. Most people however, forgot about such things and thought more about the forthcoming Christmas, the shopping that was to be done, the gifts and the toys to be found and bought and wrapped and hidden for the children. In fact, the people who took most delight in the confused Oak tree were mainly the children. They would walk in the park and would ask to walk back from the duck pond the long way past the Great Oakley Oak; they would stare at it and maybe ask a question to an elder who until moments before had seemed wiser and knowledgeable.

'Why is that tree not like the other trees mummy?'

By the end of November Mr. Grimes himself was beginning to get worried. He thought that if the Oak tree didn’t lose its leaves soon then it might not do so well next year. One of the trees at the other side of the park had had to have been felled this year because of disease. What would the village think if he, the park keeper, did not look after the most important tree in the village!? What would they do!? They might appoint a new park keeper, a younger fitter one. He might have to leave his house at the edge of the park! Where would he go!? Mr. Grimes had, sadly, very few surviving relatives. He was a bachelor with no children, did have a wife once but she had died in an accident almost a decade back. On the night of the 30th of November Mr. Grimes told himself that if the Great Oakley Oak hadn't lost a leaf by the next day he would have to do something. What, he wasn't quite sure of, but something. Something had to be done.

The first of December awoke and Mr. Grimes awoke later, but earlier than he usually liked to start his day. Of all the days of all the months he really disliked the first of December. December is a cold, empty month, good for not much but Christmas, he thought. He left the house before eight and started the short walk down the beaten path towards the Oaks. He was sure that today the Great Oak would have started shedding its leaves; it was December after all. As Mr. Grimes turned the last corner of the beaten path and saw the Great Oak, he stopped and stared. The Great Oak was teeming with life, its boughs were laden with birds and mammals, every last one of its leaves were green and, most unusual of all, it was flowering. The petals weren't there the day before, of that Mr. Grimes was sure of, but now there were hundreds of tiny buds opening up into flowers on the end of branches. Bees and other insects hurried and flurried around the Oak, seemingly oblivious to the winter, collecting and spreading the pollen in such a beautiful frenzy of activity that it made Mr. Grimes hurt to watch. By far the worst thing, which Mr. Grimes seemed fairly suspicious of at first but now was getting use to the idea, was that the old heavy lawn-roller which he hated so much appeared to be doing some lawn-rolling, by itself. This was a tad disconcerting so Mr. Grimes thought he might go and sit down under the Great Oak tree and think it through, and so being very careful not to disturb the lawn-roller, which was now going at a fairly considerably pace by itself around the oak tree nearest to The Great Oak, he went and sat down.

Soon after, the man with the fashionable haircut and the long brown coat appeared and sat down next to him. Usually, this might make Mr. Grimes feel a bit awkward as he didn't really converse people with that much anymore and conversation was a thing he wasn't use to. Today however, the presence of lawn-roller which rolled on by itself had really put him off his work and so he didn't really think about the strange man or the conversation they had together whilst watching the garden equipment go about its business. All he really remembered was that something the man had said changed his opinion, more on everything than on anything specific and more a permanent change than anything which you might wonder if it’s true the next day. The stranger and Mr. Grimes sat there a long time. The birds called out in a pretty whistling tune and at one stage a squirrel ran straight down the tree and back up again. It was fairly relaxing, Mr. Grimes thought. As if to agree with him The Great Oak let the first of its autumn leaves gently fall to the ground in front of him, and he smiled.

And so, the following spring, the village all got together and renamed the park. The village people, being simple folk and never having to name much more than the names for an Oak tree and the occasional foal, renamed the park 'Grime Oak Park', which they thought was one of the best names they had thought of to date. There was a new park keeper appointed, his name is Hank Walterby. His excellent lawn-roller skills made him the obvious choice for the park committee and he now lives happily in the house in the corner of the park, next to the heavy wrought iron gates. Sometimes, the children that see Hank as they pass the Great Oak, by request on the way back from the duck pond, will ask Hank about The Great Oak. And, if you ever happen to be on the way through Grime Oak Park and see a tired old park keeper on a break from his work, you should too. If you're lucky, he will tell you the story of the Grimes and The Great Oak Tree and he will show you the graves in front of the Great Oak, where Mr. Grimes and the stranger sat. He will brush off the moss and cut back the weeds and read the engraving which he always reads when such people ask him about such things.

"Here lies Mr. Herbert Grimes. Fifteenth of July 1904 - First of December 1969

And his beloved wife

Mrs. Lucie Grimes. Twenty-third of March 1906 - First of December 1959

Park Keepers from January 1921

May they Rest in Peace."