Deep in the oak woods, something stirs. Tiny creaks and crackles fill the spaces between the air with gossamer wisps of sound.The sap hidden beneath the crusty crackled skin of bark begins its upwards journey towards the wooden finger tips of the trees. The earth turns back towards the sun, and the unstoppable yearly process of growth and decay, turns the trees out of winter and into spring. But look a little deeper and this grand yearly cycle is nestled like a Russian doll within far greater, longer cycles of process and change.
Lightening is drawn inevitably, like a tragic star struck lover, towards the heartwood of oak. The bleached lightening struck branches gleam like bones, revealing the first step in the big process of decay from life.
Weakened by the heaven sent fury, the ground is littered with the fallen carcasses of limbs once swaying in the summer breeze, reaching towards the sky.
The contact with the earth sets off the next stage in the process of decay. The bark falls like flesh, and the grain in the wood is chiseled out by millions of tiny organisms, unseen by human eye. The wood is re-clothed with moss, fungi and lichen, as its structure softens further, releasing its hard held form back into the soft earth.
In the end, the strength of the tree dissolves into soil, and tiny acorns are nourished by its soft life giving blanket. Change and process are hidden all around us in unseen layers within layers, if only we have the eyes to see. The stately process has come full circle, and the earth breathes out, into growth, and into the next layer of the Russian doll of life.
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