It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon
men’s hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that
emanates from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews
a weary spirit.
– Robert Louis Stevenson
They are beautiful in their peace, they are wise in their silence.
They will stand after we are dust. They teach us, and we tend them.
– Galeain ip Altiem MacDunelmor
This is my birch tree going through its ‘autumn into winter’ transformation.
Soon there will be no leaves at all.
Winter is bearing down hard on us here in England. It’s not that it is that cold.. not yet, anyway. But it is just so dark and gloomy… and stark.
Looking out my window
The changing of the trees
I watch its dance with nature
Some days when the sun shines
It is like some minimalist artform
practicing its dance in my back garden
On days like today, however
it is a dark sentinel
a harbinger of days yet to come
a mystical, magical beast
that has wandered away from
a wood steeped in magic and menace
My imagination runs away with me you say