I saw it on the way to the shops, a little Christmas tree that had been discarded along the track behind the garages used by dog-walkers. Potbound, dropping its needles, but with little green points of growth and the scent of resin weeping in tiny drops from its trunk.
Rescued, it has now been taken down to the allotment and put in a sheltered spot by the hedge. Strong winds dry out conifers. I pushed my two thumbs into the rootball to loosen the fibrous roots that had grown to the shape of the pot.
It was a mild day and rain followed us home.
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