Pine trees have always confused me. Growing up on Ilkley Moor in West Yorkshire in the 1950s, the modest cluster of gnarled Scots pines, near the 18th-century spa bath of White Wells, was the nearest I ever came to the Caledonian Forest. As its name implies, the umbrella pine holds its branches in an elegant dome, vibrant green against an azure Côte d’Azur sky. (Image credit: Getty Images)Returning home and visiting my daughters who live in Surrey, I was struck by the beauty of the Scots pines that surround their gardens. Here, the Scots pines have tall and often torturous trunks that glow amber in the afternoon sunshine.