Yes

Years and years ago, part of an oak tree fell in a friend's father's garden, and I went along with the chainsaw to sort it out.

The branches made some useful planks, and lots of short chunky pieces, like this one.

The legend here is an allusion to Larkin's wonderfully warm homage to Sidney Bechet. Towards the end of the poem, Larkin writes:

On me your voice falls as the say love should,
Like a enormous yes. 

This piece, complete with bark as you see, hangs on my hall. The wood was just waiting to say exactly this. It cheers me up every time I see it. Every time.

Larkin got a lot of criticism for the depth of his pessimism. It was the shiny varnish that I mostly got stick for - a crime against taste.

Oh dear.