Country diary: The slow magic of growing a cricket bat from scratch | Michael White

As the thwack of leather on willow fades from village greens with the waning of the cricket season, a new sound, perhaps less evocative of the country idyll, fills our little valley. Toppled willow trees rip through the canopies of their doomed neighbours, and drop with dull thuds to the angry screams of chainsaws.To watch any tree fall is poignant, but for someone involved in woodland management like me, it can be conflicting. These majestic willows were planted in my teenage years, they have received my care and protection, and in turn they have given me much joy, but I always knew they were a crop, not a permanent feature. So, as these old friends are felled and hauled away to become cricket bats, an acutely uncomfortable feeling rises in me, somewhere between grief and satisfaction.‘As these old friends are felled and hauled away to become cricket bats, an acutely uncomfortable feeling rises in me, somewhere between grief and satisfaction.’ Photograph: Michael WhiteCricket-bat willow production can be a useful and environmentally enhancing diversification for farmers who have damp pockets of land unsuitable for crops or grazing. Their cultivation is simple, if not without its challenges, and, with a turnaround of 20 to 30 years, requires a pleasingly countercultural long-term outlook.The process begins by pushing long, living willow rods directly into the ground during autumn when the earth is soft and damp. The following spring these cuttings take root and begin their growth into trees. Protection from grazing animals must be provided and, as the stems develop over the years, side shoots are rubbed off to produce straight, knot-free trunks that will in turn produce premium bats.Grey squirrels are something of a nemesis, and their destructive potential is demonstrated every spring as they strip away bark to access the nutrient-rich sap. The trees generally survive, but are left with a legacy of decay that can render them unusable.I wonder what passersby on the footpath think as our peaceful grove is reduced to timber and wood chip by this array of terrifying forestry hardware. Their sense of sorrow and outrage might well be less complex than my own, but perhaps they will share in my delight as new willows are planted, and the cycle begins once more. Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian’s Country Diary, 2018-2024, is available now at guardianbookshop.com‘I wonder what passersby on the footpath think as our peaceful grove is reduced to timber and wood chip by this array of terrifying forestry hardware.’ Photograph: Michael White