A tree falls in Epsom, and an old man grieves. Trees are down everywhere in Auckland after April’s storm hit with the city. But some trees, like his huge oak, are special, less wood than the stuff of memory. He recalls swings and tree huts for kids now long gone, barbecues with neighbours under its generous shade. Surely nothing as ephemeral as wind could bring it down? He turns as men arrive, doesn’t stay for the backyard funeral, where the only dirge is the roar of chainsaws…