It has withstood a lot over its two centuries or more, and it sailed through the recent gales with only minor damage - it is a pedunculate oak, and during our 40 odd years of acquaintance and propinquity, has come through worse. For example, in that big wind of the early Sixties, when a well-established pine crashed down beside the house (parallel to the wall where three people were sitting by a fireside, so that a slight deviation and this piece might never have been written), the oak took heavy punishment, losing almost half of its top branches.
But it survived to send up fresh branches in an incredibly youthful and vigorous manner. Looking at it closely now, all you might notice is the very straight upward growth of some of the new branches. So it has seen worse. And it has taken some rough treatment from its owners. When it stood on a much bigger lawn or enclosure, since divided, it had to have two of its lowest, heavy branches completely cut off at base, so that young girls on their ponies could safely ride round and round. Then there has been more recent pruning to give more sun and to keep free telephone lines and lorries making deliveries.
The lawn, each day of the past few weeks, has been cluttered with lumps of twigs, snapped off, still bearing green leaves, and then, of course, there are plenty of fallen brown leaves. But even today, November 12th, the predominant colour is green. When it is clear of leaves, later in the year, you will look up, it is hoped, to see no great damage. But the age of the tree is seen when down comes a bit of a branch, say two to three inches thick, and when you pick it up, it may break in your hand - so soft that you can poke a finger into it.
But it is a mighty tree; it can wear its imperfections. It is well-rooted, as oaks tend to be, given the soil, deep and sound. What about acorns? In Spring you would have forecast a mighty crop, for never was it so clothed in such a robe of yellow, male blossom. In the end it has not been, as the phrase goes, a mast year. Indeed a poor enough one. Any acorns saved were good, but many fell early, maggoty and smallish. And the grass is covered with galls - the round marble gall with the hole through which the nasty grub has already escaped to perpetuate its cycle.
Only once did a bird - a magpie - make a nest in it. Oaks come late into leaf. This one should last another few centuries if left alone.