To walk in the woods is to walk in a rainbow. There’s a wildness in the air, a sense of mischief and mystery. As the October winds sweep the remaining leaves from the trees they swirl around in a last dance of triumph, their job done. Now to rest. With a flourish of blood red, golden yellow and tawny browns they carpet the woodland, a sea of crisp chaos, covering the earth, waiting to be recycled into next season’s bounty.
The mighty oak shuts his eyes, his roots cling tightly to terra firma as the gales press in from the writhing seas. Time to close. Countless thousands of tiny creatures rest within the deep fissures of his bark. Trusting him to hold them safe as they all slumber through the season of chance.