30 days wild, 21

I love me a copper beech. Look at them.



I suppose the Sherlock Holmes story helps, it was my favourite as a kid, and it always nudges into my consciousness when I see one. The tree on my patch is old, maybe even as old as that (1892). It hums with life. Insects love the leaves, birds love the insects. It was shimmering with it.


I don’t know who V & L were (certainly not Violet and Lestrade), and I don’t hold with cutting scars into beautiful things; maybe they’re feeding worms or soil and turning something fundamental into something useful.


It is a commotion of colour and shade. It supports and shelters. Sit under one, look up, lean against it. No need for initials, though.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s