Trees

The knarled trees reminds me of fairy tales. Old and curved with a thousand crevices and knots and curves. Its leaves hanging low over the dirt path, its shade has stopped the grass from growing beneath its marvellous canopy. If I was an elf or a hobbit or even a kid with a plastic sword I would hide there waiting for the monsters to retreat…. When it rains I would snuggle into my cloak watching the leaves flutter with a hundred shades of green emerging and surrounding me while smelling the fresh wet soil being dampened by the downpour outside. When the sun comes out and it is too hot I would enter the cavernous undercroft and take shade while cracking bone dry branches beneath my feet and listening to the lone blackbird above me singing the lament of the day. The tree is protector, the tree is master of the forest, the old grandparent, wise and scarred from a hundred years or life and living. Its bark is tough and flaky but creates textures of amazing interest. Its branches are tangled growing low then rising up like a piece of thick wire twisted in many directions but still growing on. Its leaves however are still as soft when they first sprout in spring. Still as green on midsummer’s day, still as gentle when they fall from the tree, still as crunchy when dried by the sun and frozen by the frost.



When one has a camera in ones face, doesn’t it just give you the ability to play the fool. Rather like being on stage except now all the world truly is a stage more so than ever before. You can jump around in public places, kiss or paint or even hit people with the justification being that there is a camera there and I’m allowed to! The camera is the license to act to let go, especially when being directed to do so by the cameraman! Who knows where it will end…I just know that it has made me loose my thread….