What would our childhoods be like without it, sheltering our games of hide-and-seek, offering its branches to our swings, or to our feet when we decided to climb higher and higher; without it populating the tales our parents told us in the evenings before bedtime? It adorns parks, botanical gardens, estate promenades and allotments. It’s so fast-growing, majestic, protective and major despite its eternal greenness.

Larch is first and foremost a nostalgia for a time when gasoline had to be earned. We had to climb. On foot. Up to around 2000 meters, but as a child, that meant all the way to the sky.