What a striking lone ash tree on one of Scotland's busiest streets tells us after Sycamore Gap felling

If you walk along Argyle Street in Finnieston, amid the swirl of traffic and the buzz of cafes, you’ll see a lone ash tree standing quietly at the edge of the pavement.

To most, it’s just part of the background. But to me — and increasingly to others — it represents something profound: a symbol of resistance, and a reminder that not all trees infected with ash dieback are doomed to fall.

An overhead drone photo of the Ash tree on Argyle Street | Douglas Crawford/Tree Wise Tree Surgeons

I’ve worked directly with this tree on three separate occasions over the past five years, carrying out inspections and remedial pruning to reduce risk to the public on behalf of the tree’s owner.

Each time, I’ve assessed its structure and removed significant deadwood over one of Glasgow’s busiest streets. These interactions have given me a close and practical understanding of its health and condition — and it’s through this hands-on work that I began to notice something unusual.

While many other ash trees in Glasgow have declined rapidly, some just streets away, this one has remained strikingly stable. It still retains over three-quarters of its canopy, placing it at stage one in the Forestry Commission’s categorisation system, which classifies it as only mildly affected.

What’s more, its resilience isn’t a fluke. My field observations have been echoed by a growing body of research across the UK and Europe over the past decade.

In particular, a recent literature review by Combes, Webber and Boddy draws together evidence showing that microclimatic and spatial factors — like those found in cities — can influence a tree’s ability to survive infection. And this tree ticks several of those boxes.

An overhead picture of the ash tree on one of Glasgow's busiest streets | Douglas Crawford/Tree Wise Tree Surgeons

Take leaf litter, for instance. Hymenoscyphus fraxineus, the fungus responsible for ash dieback, depends on infected leaves lying at the base of a tree to complete its life cycle.

In this case, the tree’s urban surroundings disrupt that process. Fallen leaves are swept away by traffic or wind. There’s little exposed soil for spores to linger in. Without that litter layer, the fungus struggles to persist year to year.

The tree’s isolation is another factor. It stands alone, with no other ash trees within at least 100m.

That matters because infected trees in close proximity act as spore reservoirs. In contrast, isolated trees are less exposed to repeated reinfection from neighbours.

And then there’s the architecture. This ash stands beside old tenement buildings that reflect and radiate heat.

Paved surroundings reduce humidity at its base. Research has shown that dry, warm microclimates — like those found in parts of cities — can suppress the formation of apothecia, the tiny fruiting bodies that release spores. That means fewer spores in the air and a better chance of survival for the tree.

Some of this sounds accidental, but it adds up to a compelling pattern. The Argyle Street ash is not just lucky — it’s a product of conditions that actively disrupt the disease cycle. And when viewed through that lens, it forces us to question how we respond to infected trees.

A crane works on the ash tree on Argyle Street | Douglas Crawford/Tree Wise Tree Surgeons

Right now, the prevailing response across much of the UK is felling. Trees that show signs of ash dieback — sometimes only minor ones — are often cut down in anticipation of decline.

I understand the rationale, especially near roads or paths, where safety is a real concern. But we’re starting to see evidence that some trees, especially in urban settings, can hold their ground.

Not all infections lead to failure. Not all trees are equal. And cutting too early may deprive us of natural survivors.

This tree reminds me of the need for nuance — for observation, not just reaction. It’s not just a biological curiosity. It’s become a sort of urban elder, bearing witness to years of change, standing firm against a threat that has devastated its species.

In a time when headlines are filled with loss — from the Sycamore Gap tragedy to the felling of the Whitewebbs Oak — it offers a rare story of hope.

The Sycamore Gap tree was felled in September 2023. | Getty Images

What makes this tree remarkable isn’t just its resistance to disease. It’s the way it stands — alone, unprotected, and yet still alive — in the heart of a city that often overlooks such quiet resilience.

In an era of mounting ecological strain, the symbolism of this lone ash is hard to ignore. It’s a survivor. And survival, especially under pressure, matters.

Public awareness of urban trees has grown, but so too has unease around tree safety.

That anxiety has created space for sweeping decisions — sometimes made with incomplete understanding — about when to remove trees. In the case of ash dieback, the assumption has often been that infection equals inevitability. But trees like the one on Argyle Street suggest otherwise.

David Treanor | David Treanor

It’s time we began to reframe our urban trees — not just as risks or infrastructure challenges, but as vital presences in our collective landscape.

They offer shade, beauty and calm. They improve our mental health. And in the case of this ash, they offer us something else entirely: a new story, one that cuts through the noise of loss with the clarity of endurance.

We don’t often talk about hope when it comes to trees, especially not diseased ones. But perhaps we should.

Because if one ash tree on Argyle Street can hold its ground, maybe others can too — if only we choose to let them.

- David Treanor is an arborist and founder of Tree Wise Urban Forestry, based in Paisley. He has worked for 15 years reconnecting people with trees through hands-on conservation, education and storytelling.