The birds and the bees agreed – as did a host of other forest creatures – and did not seem to mind that it had snuck in from Aus, instead basked in the ecosystem created by its considerable girth. For half a century – at a guess – it anchored its roots against the elements to stand as a beacon amidst Harkerville’s arboreal bounty.

Before first light on any given summer’s morning, we’d hear the buzzing of the bees as they arrived on their daily pollen-harvesting spree. Amethyst-, double-collared- and black sunbirds flitted in flocks. Fork-tailed drongos joined the feast, while orioles raucously proclaimed their space within the spreading canopy, hung heavy with crimson blooms.

Our tree neighbour flailed and thrashed, but remaineded rooted for the first days of the recent #GardenRoute storm, but eventually succumbed to what was arguably one of the the most intense weather onslaughts in living memory. I was on a shoot in the Northern Cape, but Karyn says it did so gracefully, thumping down in a swooshing great arc, rather than in a destructive crash.

Okay, so it did destroy our deck and roof, but spared most of the A-frame, and left the solar panels, water tanks, and structural integrity of the house intact. I’ve spent the weekends since with chainsaw in hand, trimming away branches, opening walkways, and re-imagining our patch of forest-fronting ‘garden’ space’.

We’re going to keep the tree, we’ve decided. The formidable trunk and sturdy branches form a perfect base for a organic climbing frame and hanging space. Let’s call it a #NatureGym, if you like, with balance bars and #slacklines and ladders, cargo nets and perches …

And while I was wielding the STIHL chainsaw, I noticed a sliver of emerald green cautiously moving amidst the eucalyptus leaves. It was a Knysna #DwarfChameleon that had survived the collapse, slowly abandoning the Mother Tree. I scooped it up and carried it to a nearby wild pomegranate, and it gave me the beady eye before stop-stepping into the canopy, and disappearing out of sight