A question of time

I have a friend who is a philosopher. A real philosopher, not some try hard YouTuber or dribbling drunk. She is a professor at the local university, her area of expertise is metaphysics and her subject is time. She is very good at her job and leaving her work at the office which, as it turns out is a good thing. I had always thought that intracellular pathways, proton pumps and electron exchange units were mind-bending, but they’re just basic botany compared to the abstract concept of time.

She had just published a book and been interviewed on the Beeb, so we were at her place celebrating, and rightly so we were talking shop. Well, she was talking shop, we were just listening. I had just angered the local architectural community, so I was also celebrating – you have to take the wins when you can. I had successfully pointed out that their ‘permanent’ structures couldn’t be considered permanent. There was a proposal to remove several 100-year-old elm trees so that they could build a permanent structure, when asked how long permanent was, they replied 50 years. Concerning the life of my trees and their potential remaining useful life expectancy of my trees, their permanent structure was just temporary. I had argued that to remove my trees (the actual permanent structures on the site) and replace them with temporary buildings was illogical. I had pointed to the trees as a tangible link between the past and the present. I had discussed future generations. I mocked their little building, which was probably a step too far. I was feeling good and I clearly understood time. Luckily there were no geologists in the room mentioning the age of rocks [1.3 to 3.8 billion years].

With my newfound confidence I boldly initiated a philosophical conversation on time, and for the briefest of moments I was actually following it, but then it was gone; ‘past, present or future are just a matter of perspective, just like what is here or over there is a matter of spatial perspective. So time as a matter of perspective, it is only relative to itself, not in an absolute sense’. Eek! So were my trees, the architects’ permanent structure and/or the rocks only relative to themselves? So were they all temporary and permanent, or permanently temporary? I had thought that I understood abstract concepts but I really needed the conversation to become tangible – I tried to slip non-rated anchor points, zig-zag slippage, or lithium-Ion batteries into the conversation but I didn’t get the chance… or did I? Maybe I did, or have or will do in one of the infinite versions of time that split at that very moment… maybe in another version of time I’m not writing this, or maybe I’m writing something different. I clearly didn’t understand time. Was it home time, or time for another drink? I suspect I chose the latter.

What I took from the evening, apart from a weariness of clocks, is that time is an abstract concept. What is or is not permanent depends on your point of view and when it comes to trees, time is age and location dependent.

Recently I’ve had the privilege of working with some veteran trees. Veteran based on stage, more so than age. They were in a high use, high profile park and because of the years of ‘correct’ arboricultural work undertaken on them, they were becoming quite problematic. Something dramatic had to be done but previous contractors and indeed the Council had not been brave enough to do it. As a result, the trees were failing and the public was afraid. To retain the trees I ended up specifying that substantial branch-end reduction pruning was undertaken. Not quite the full retrenchment but in some cases pretty close, and we just worked on half of each tree; we’ll do the other half in two or three years’ time depending on how they respond.

There are a couple of things in there that are worth unpacking; a) previous contractors had been doing correct work and as a result, the trees were becoming problematic, and b) we plan to wait two or three years to see how the trees respond.

a) The previous contractors had not been doing bad work, it is just that the work that they were doing was not age-appropriate for the trees. Basically, they were pruning them as if they were still juvenile trees.

The trees were not getting any bigger and the wounds made [the pruning cuts] were not closing over. The trees had long laterals that were full of holes and only had foliage at the ends. When a limb failed, it was pruned back to the trunk. Good natural target pruning, but still massive holes on the trunk. And the trees were on an annual pruning cycle – so they were cut, if they needed it or not.

b) We plan to wait two or three years to see how the trees respond. The trees were deciduous, meaning that the growth that appears in spring was set down in the previous growing season. Deciduous trees kind of live in the past, so you really need two growing seasons to see the fruits of your labour or gauge how the tree is responding. My trees are old, so we’ll need at least two, probably three, but more likely four years before we can work on them again.

And to sum this all up; managing trees is a question of time, tree time. A tree is a tree, but it will respond differently to pruning over time. The needs and management of an old tree may differ from the needs and management of a young tree. A veteran tree is a stage and not an age, deciduous trees live in the past, and lastly, don’t discuss time with a philosopher.

For the sake of accuracy, I mentioned my account of the timely evening to my philosopher friend. She pointed out rather bluntly that she did not subscribe to presentism (which is the theory of time that I have tried to describe), she is a B-theorist. The B-theory of time denies that the present is metaphysically privileged over past and future times. A-theory in contrast, considers that the properties of being past, being present and being future are fundamental to the nature of time. Luckily there is no C-theory and luckily Heather doesn’t bring her work home very often.

• Written for the ARB Magazine (UK)