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This takes me back to my childhood in India. We had two (slow-growing) sandalwood trees in our garden. I always knew these trees were regarded as special, though to a child they didn't do anything exciting, like producing beautiful flowers or edible fruit. Of course I was aware of the scent of the wood, but one doesn't experience that from a growing tree.
Years later, when I was a young adult, my poor mother woke up one afternoon from her nap to find that thieves (who had obviously been scoping out the household's habits) had sawn down the trees and carted them off. In the hubbub of an urban Indian afternoon the sounds of the trees being cut down didn't ring out enough to wake her.
Some sapling did remain but it was years before they had turned into the slenderest of trees.