CONKERY GRAVITY

The Pagoda Tree in Fall

Gosh, days like these. It’s warm, the sky is a lucid blue and there’s an autumn breeze rippling over the park.

Too warm for a coat, and perhaps too warm for a jumper. Nevertheless I clutch one and wear the other, out here under the Pagoda Tree, watching the white clouds and elegant shadows.

It’s a horse chestnut. At this time of year, it drops conkers in spiky shells. They’re currently thudding into the grass at periodic intervals. There are leaves fluttering out of the branches too - my guess, disturbed by twitching grey squirrels somewhere in the vast canopy above my head.

I wonder what would happen if I got hit by a falling conker? Would it be enough to knock me out? Or would it just hurt? Would I burst into a pained ow or just develop a new theory of conkery gravity?

Just gravity isn’t it? Apples and conkers alike succumb to Newton’s foe sooner or later.

The trunk is sturdy. I’m reclining against it, coat upon my lap, lost in the dark circle of green shade under this magnificent tree.

These are still my favourite kind of days. They’re just like school days and early university days - crispy brown leaves lit by long shadows, silver sunlight and emerald green grass. I love the light as it falls on the trees, and the gilding of leaves that flap inside out in the sunlight. I love that it’s still warm enough to sit out without shuddering, but long gone is the stuffy heat of summer. 

There are squirrels clicking and scratching now. I can hear them. Another half conker comes pelting out of the Pagoda Tree and thumps into the soil about a foot away. I’m starting to wonder… no, surely they can’t be… are they really that clever and that territorial? Am I getting paranoid?

What Newton worked out was that gravity is working as a force between Earth and apple, despite the preposterous size difference between them. Every bit of mass is attracted to every other bit of mass by this remarkable force, and therefore, he could use it as a theory, not just for apples, but for all the planets and moons and stars as they get pulled into orbit around each other in complicated attractional patterns. It’s basically Love Island, though of course Newton would have been more of a fan of Drag Race UK, I suspect.

I’m moving. These squirrels are sounding angry, and they’re pushing into lower branches. Soon they’ll be close enough to aim their horse chestnuts directly at my head, and I am in no mood today to be conked on the conk with conkers.

It remains though, a beautiful autumn day.