Grandson meets grandfather.
While a few days in Pisa, I walked every morning along a tree-lined promenade on the Arno’s riverbank. The trees had been planted almost two centuries ago and some had died and not been replaced. The stumps had not been removed and they were a strong and sad reminder of the missing trees.
I decided to take action, bought a few stalks from a nursery and did the best I could to implant them
I returned to Pisa a couple of months later and some had taken roots: the young trees had found nourishment in the the remnants of the old ones.
It was comforting to imagine that there was a physical as well as ideal continuity: the still frail youngster had somehow grafted with the mighty roots and experience of his grandfather.