Vandals...

Is it no wonder this weeping beech (Fagus sylvatica 'Pendula') casts down its branches in such sorrow?

What possesses somebody to carve their name into the bole of a tree? I suppose, like a white-washed wall calls to the graffiti artist, the clean elephantine bark beckons a person to scrawl and to scratch, to cut and to hack. Finished, they lovingly trace the lines and admire their handiwork; arrogant, they later return to fondle the permanence of their actions.

Oh, could I but once catch somebody in this devious act. I would take out my own pen knife and carve my initials into their trunk. Like a tree, their sap would ooze and bleed, infections within would dance in glee. Eventually, their skin would callus, but the scar-tissue would forever remain, marking my brand, my permanence.