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Inspired by Highgate Wood
The trees were here before we were.
When the clay was first dug, the canopy was dark and lush. No sunlight reached the ground for underbrush. Thick vines climbed trunks and spiraled to branches. Perhaps holly grew, here and there, dwarfed by the oak and hornbeam.
Now, of course, there are fewer trees. We need fields, and houses, and warmth in the winter. And the kilns are always hungry.
But we've saved some. For shade, to block the wind, for their fruit or acorns. Some few because they seemed too much trouble to fell, or perhaps for some deeper reason.
And all things pass. When the land is barren, or when the clay is gone, or when invaders come, or plague? Then we'll be gone. In time, even the walls will crumble.
Only the trees will remain.
The trees were here before we were.
When the clay was first dug, the canopy was dark and lush. No sunlight reached the ground for underbrush. Thick vines climbed trunks and spiraled to branches. Perhaps holly grew, here and there, dwarfed by the oak and hornbeam.
Now, of course, there are fewer trees. We need fields, and houses, and warmth in the winter. And the kilns are always hungry.
But we've saved some. For shade, to block the wind, for their fruit or acorns. Some few because they seemed too much trouble to fell, or perhaps for some deeper reason.
And all things pass. When the land is barren, or when the clay is gone, or when invaders come, or plague? Then we'll be gone. In time, even the walls will crumble.
Only the trees will remain.
