The cypress, although in this case it is made of water and more closely resembles conifers, it also has an ancient tradition, occupying a sadly prominent place in old myths.

They say -with or without the connivance of Robert Graves- that Cipariso, a young lover of the god Apollo, had a special affection for the sacred deer of the nymphs of Chios, with whom he used to indulge in joyous games and rambles, which is quite curious. since he also loved hunting, to the point that Apollo himself had given him a golden javelin.

The detail of the extent to which Fate is mercilessly mocking, we verify it one day in which the hitherto happy and carefree young man felt the irrepressible desire to go hunting and hearing a noise behind some bushes, he threw his javelin without a moment's hesitation And of course, without knowing that that act would be the beginning of his own end, because when he went to retrieve the weapon and the prey, his heart leaped in his chest, when he understood that he had become the murderer of that animal sacred and at the same time dear friend, who was the deer.

So much did he move Apollo by his dejection, that in order for him to be closer to heaven, where the soul of his unfortunate playmate rested, he decided to turn him into a cypress.

Nothing says the myth, indeed, that it turned it into a water cypress, but I want to go further as well and letting myself be carried away by that poetic justice, which I am sure exists, to see in the blood color that autumn provides to its deciduous leaves, the memory of recklessly shed blood and a wake-up call against hunting and impulsiveness.

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