I have always been fascinated by the almost pre historic allure of trees post pruning. Branches contort and assume sculptural gravitas that speak of wisdom and history as they prepare for winter. I never tire of the way glorious ganglionic tips conclude and contain tree stems like an old Shaman’s gnarled hands.
Heroically, a single tree, flanked by the rectilinear series of houses is important at centre stage. Small distant trees do not devalue that central motif. In this urban space, one tree holds more symbolic potential than a thicket. Brooding skies amplify that drama with sound and colour.
During lockdown, I have imagined many narratives this summer, and it’s been wonderful celebrating this old friend’s return to youthful vigour. Until Autumn.