WHAT IS LOVE?

It is a question that has been asked a million times. Rather than attempt to give you an answer, I would like to tell you the story of a tree that once grew in the Parish of St Martin and has been loved both in life and in death.

The tree appears to have been deliberately planted for its great, imposing beauty by someone unlikely ever to see it reach its full majesty. What a generous act of love: to place something in the ground knowing you may never witness it in all its splendour. To plant for future generations is perhaps one of the purest expressions of faith, hope, and love.

The tree in question was a Macrocarpa, a hardy cypress native to Monterey, California, it has long been planted in Europe as an ornamental tree. It is a magnificent species, capable of living for more than 200 years, reaching heights of 40 metres and trunk diameters of two to three metres.

Sadly, the life of this particular tree was cut short by Storm Ciarán on the night of 4 November 2023. It was one of thousands of trees felled across the Island. Yet, in its death, a new chapter began.

The good news is that there are people in Jersey who do not see a fallen tree as waste to be disposed of, but as a resource gifted by nature. They see possibility where others see debris. They see an opportunity to create something new, to racc'moder.

One such person was Xanthe Hamilton. She organised the collection of numerous fallen trees and arranged for them to be stored in a field, believing that one day they would find a new purpose. What an extraordinary act of love for our community: taking unselfish action with no expectation of reward, simply because it was the right thing to do.

Some time later, following a conversation at The Hub, a community space created by Paul Millbank, I found myself drawn into the magic of this story. It led me to wonder whether my business, Cooper's, might use wood from these fallen trees to refresh the tabletops in our Castle Quay café.

Cafés have always been places where communities come together. They are places where stories are shared, old and new; where the global meets the local; where friendships are formed and memories are made. They offer an opportunity to tell stories that people can be proud of and to create connections that endure.

So we began sawing our way through this magnificent tree. Years of exposure to the elements had turned the outer wood a dull silver, but hidden within the trunk was extraordinary beauty. The pearl within the oyster.

As each plank emerged from the saw, revealing its colour and releasing its distinctive aroma, the excitement became impossible to ignore. Any doubts quickly vanished with those first rough cuts. We knew immediately that this was something special.

Once again, Jersey demonstrated the strength of its community spirit. The roughly cut tabletops were taken to Acorn's Woodshack, a place where people learn new skills, restore old furniture, and breathe new life into forgotten materials.

There, the tabletops were carefully sanded, revealing the grain in all its glory. The edges were bevelled. The wood was oiled and varnished. Finally, a laser-cut inscription was burned into each table, telling the story of the tree from which it came.

The finished wood became soft to the touch, almost as if it were responding to the care and attention it had received. I found myself captivated by the patterns flowing through the grain. The same patterns can be seen throughout the natural world: in riverbeds, mountain faces, and the swirling currents of the ocean.

Look further still and those patterns appear across the universe itself. Similar forms emerge in galaxies, coastlines, clouds, and living systems. There is a remarkable unity in creation. Is it possible that what we experience in those moments of wonder is something greater than ourselves? Is it, perhaps, an expression of God's love woven through all things?

And so, the day arrived when the first of these magnificent tables was delivered to our café. It was stunning.

Customers were immediately drawn to it, gathering around it as though it carried its own quiet presence. Conversations began. Questions were asked. The story of the tree continued to be told.

A magnificent tree has been immortalised in a table, the abundance of nature has been recognised, honoured, and given new life.

And perhaps that’s what love is, not simply admiration, not possession, but seeing value where others see none, nurturing potential for the benefit of others, and ensuring that even after something has fallen, its story continues.