Sometimes grey days give the clearest views. After a week of incessant rain, a gap suddenly opened up in the clouds. The hills emerged. Vast slanting sunbeams were lowered from the sky like ladders from a giant, slate-roofed hay loft. The light travelled round the hilly horizon picking out each feature in turn. That ring of sycamores on high barn where my son and I bike in the summer, the shine of the “whitestone cliffs” above my mother’s village, the ridge of beeches spining Gunnerlaw hill, and the ash tree perching on top of Hood Hill named “Shane’s tree” after my nephew.Shane’s tree can be seen for upwards of 10 miles in every direction: a living landmark. Shane’s tree continued to glow for a few more moments in the spotlight before the s