Temperate rainforest…

water falling, pucks glen

It stopped raining so we went off into the forest, getting some air before the arrival of guests who will be with us for New Year.

It is only a slight exageration to suggest that the forests of Argyll are part of the fragments of temperate rainforest left in northern Europe. Huge old trees in a sponge of moss and leaf mulch, well watered by the western Scottish climate.

As ever, my camera came along. I think I have a million photos of some of these places- searching for the play of light and the movement of water. I never quite manage it but some come close.

 

The trees of the field shall clap their hands…

Part of some poetry I am working on for Greenbelt festival

The air is harrowed by the song of birds

Each note a spore

Lighting upon the curl of some fertile ear

And the trees of the field clap their hands

 

The earth exhales

No longer held in the clamp of winter

Breath misting the day into rainbows of light

And the trees of the field clap their hands

 

Last year’s leaves fell not in vain

Digested as they are by a subterranean stomach

Burping out it’s appreciation

And the trees of the field clap their hands