The mighty fallen

I walked to a secluded valley about a mile from home where a massive sycamore is a favourite of mine. I was shocked when I got in sight of it: it had pitched over and was lying in a tangle of limbs, the remaining leaves fast withering. Strongly bifurcated in life, it had split asunder in the fall and the riven trunk revealed signs of internal decay. Trees can survive with such damage for many years but eventually a strong wind will take them out and this must have been what happened here. We have had some stormy nights of late.

Never before have I clambered in the branches as I did today, the bark thickly crusted with moss and lichen and ivy. Now the parasitic fungi will move in, unless the timber is removed to be cut up for firewood.

I will miss this sycamore tree. It was a destination. In past years I tried to make a study of it through the seasons. I never completed the project but here it is in January, March, April, and
October.