I’ve always had this love affair with trees, from the trees of my childhood until now. There was the emerald green moss in the lightning-split trunk of my reading tree, the swooping down branches of the Macrocarpa, the walnut tree that I climbed and got stuck in, my grandfather’s high Macrocarpa hedge that we ran along the top of. Then there was the monkey puzzle tree in the front garden, and the stately poplars along the roadside. I loved them all. And last, but not least, was Enid Blyton’s ‘Faraway Tree’ where I spent a lot of dreaming time.
play of light
among the shielding leaves