Winter is a time of quiet rebirth. Nature rests and renews itself. Leaves fall and molecules return to the soil; ready to be recycled and reused.
There is great beauty in this process of decomposition.
The sun stays low in the sky but still provides some warmth on sunny days.
A leaf, blown here and there on windy days, finally comes to rest on the trunk of a tree. It’s tree, or another one?
Old leaves still turn to face their god.
Some plants continue to grow, finding what they need in this time of cold.
Others find an old gravestone on which to face the setting sun and grow ever so slowly – they are very old.
I like the rich colours of the setting sun. Everything, even a few old leaves, looks magical in the fading light.
Ordinary things, like a tangled mass of stems and branches, are suddenly given a theatrical design by the fleeting rays of the setting sun.
The wood seems slightly more magical as the rays of light move across the leafy floor.
Paradise is here in earth. We just need to take better care of it.
‘Paradise is here in earth. We just need to take better care of it.’ Too true.