On St Valentine's Day I lost my heart ... to a tree

THERE was a children’s book I treasured for years after it was outgrown.
I can’t remember its name. But I can still see in my mind’s eye its wonderful pictures of trees with knotty, gnarly old faces, a bit like the Ents in Tolkien, or those magical forests in a 1950s Rupert Bear annual.
The tree in this picture conjures them all up so vividly.
It looks as though it belongs in a fairy tale, in an enchanted wood, where it might suddenly start waving its branches about and dispensing sage advice to lost children.
It came in a job lot from Netherhampton auction room. I’d actually taken a fancy to a print of the Pyramids, but on closer inspection this one grew on me.
On the back was an inscription by “landscape artist in watercolour Eric Jennings” and a label revealing that he lived at St Gregory’s Avenue, Salisbury.
He called the picture “Chestnut & Pine”, dated it November, 1981, and added a helpful note: “These two trees are on the East bank of the woodland walk which proceeds South from the end of Mallard Road, Bournemouth.”
“Oooh,” I thought, as one might, “I must go and see if they’re still there.” That was six or seven years ago.
And this weekend, on St Valentine’s Day, my beloved and I finally set out on this romantic mini-quest.
“Don’t bother with flowers or chocolates or cards,” I told him, at which he looked mildly surprised but also pleased, because I know that although he faithfully produces these goodies every year he thinks it’s all become a meaningless marketing opportunity.
“Just let’s spend some time together, maybe have lunch out, go for a walk. I know, why don’t we see if we can find that tree?”
And he agreed. Not even a long-suffering sigh.
I didn’t really think it would still be there. But reader, it was. In a narrow strip of old woodland that had miraculously survived between a playing field, a graveyard and a rather scruffy housing estate, close to the twin monstrosities of the Castlepoint Shopping Park and the Mallard Road Retail Park.
It was easy – and surprisingly emotional – to spot it there, leaning on its companion as if with a protective arm around it.

I’d always imagined that it would be in a leafy walk down to the sea through one of the swisher parts of town. I wonder what attracted Mr Jennings to that undistinguished spot?
Anyway, there we were, photographing away when a woman walking her dog stopped to say: “D’you know, I’ve always meant to sketch that tree? Isn’t it lovely?” Now I’m definitely going to do it.”
I’ve since discovered online that there is a series of pictures by an Eric Jennings, known as the Francis Asbury Watercolours, belonging to Salisbury Methodist Church.
I guess it must be the same man. If you know anything else about him, I’d love to hear it.