Thursday 26 November
Yesterday I briefly mentioned how texture is something that is much more apparent to me now that the green has rescinded.
Trees reveal their faces in the autumn and winter. The wind and darkness draws back their leafy veils and shows every wrinkle and crack.
Age impacts on all living things, and our close relationship with trees is evident here to. When trees are young their bark is smooth and largely wrinkle free. But as the years pass the ridges deepen and widen and increase in number.
The marks of time are worn with pride. The snapped branches, overlaps, splits and burs. The signs of disease and infection. Fungus, lichens and mosses, mistletoe all welcomed squatters. The deserted nests of birds and wasps, silhouettes against the grey skies. Holes dug out by woodpecker, and occupied by treecreeper, owls and nuthatch. Insects crawling up and down using the ridges as main roads guiding them from a to b.
Then, whilst the features are uncovered the weather can work on the look. Every spring a new layer of leaves grow, and no one year is the same as the next. Each year of course, the wood changes too. But it’s much more subtle. Another years growth and another years scars.
The Bald Birder 