Truncated...

Looking at the sheeting rain - so long awaited in this dry shower-free April - it's as well we abandoned our morning walk in the woods. Janet's feet were playing her up (adds to the long list of household aches and pains), and we cut short our meandering through the west ridge and came home for coffee. I did however love the flowing dried brittleness of this old stump, stood in the middle of the bluebells and garlic. No recent ash felling he, but a monument to the truth that even in death there is beauty.