The tree from which the famous apple fell onto Isaac Newton's head in 1666, inspiring his theory of gravity, is still there - though it was reputed to have been cut down after damage in a storm in 1820. But, according to an item in last week's Country Life, Dr Richard Keesing of York University is having DNA tests to prove that the tree now there in the garden of Newton's birthplace is the original. It may have fallen but it still lives on. True, new trees were grown from cuttings, but when Dr Keesing was given family papers from Woolsthorpe Manor, near Grantham, Newton's birthplace, he found a sketch of the original, by which he could track down its actual site. He literally stumbled over its fallen trunk, from which shoots had sprung years ago. The sketch he was looking at was, apparently, the image of the tree as it stands today - bent and curling but vigorous and well leafed. The report says that the 8,000 visitors who go annually to Woolsthorpe will know, given that the DNA tests prove correct, that they are seeing the tree grown from the one that dropped an apple on Newton. The variety, by the way, is Flower of Kent.
Other trees have been known to rally and come on again after falling, when some roots remain in the ground, attached even minimally to the soil. This happens with mulberry trees, and the outstanding case to have come before these eyes is the specimen in the grounds of Breaffy House hotel, Castlebar. There was a time when it was just a fallen tree - now it thrives, glistening leaves and authentic fruit, as something like a maze. Elbows of the fallen branches seem also to have dug themselves into the soil and rooted healthily. It's worth going out of your way in the West to see it. Willows, too, have good powers of survival. One veteran mentioned here before has, one by one, lost all its mighty branches, but from the bark of its stump new sprouts have been moving and will soon be fairly substantial. Not far away, another willow fell, some 40 years ago; its original trunk sinks lower and lower in softish ground, but the new, long shoots, now fine heavy branches, make a fine grove in spring.
John Stewart Collis, in his autobiography, tells of a yew tree of great age, the branches of which drooped to the ground and took root. All grew to be trees themselves, which similarly imitated the original pattern, for their branches drooped, rooted and sent up another generation of trees, making in all a small forest. Y