Rotten to the Core

Last week’s weather brought biting winds out of the east and then, when the winds shifted back to the prevailing westerlies, Atlantic gales. On Thursday night, when the good burghers of SIlverdale put out their bins and recycling boxes, the wind playfully tipped them over and spread the contents far and wide. One of our neighbours boxes apparently travelled through (or over?) our garden and into the field beyond. On Saturday morning the leaves, glossy with rain, lay noticeably deeper in Eaves Wood.

The whole family were out and we boys elected to show the female contingent the ‘new’ route to the Pepper Pot we had discovered.

We managed to fit in a little tree climbing…

But mainly it was the leaf litter which entertained us…crunching through it, throwing it around, photographing it…

We found that a simple stick worked surprisingly effectively as a rake. B made piles of leaves ‘for the birds to make nests with’, whilst A just wanted to kick her piles into spiralling clouds of leaves.

This leaf, nestling in a mossy hollow in a old tree stump, was improbably golden – looking for all the world as if somebody had spray-painted it for some kind of yuletide table decoration.

Strong winds inevitably mean fallen trees in Eaves Wood, and there were quite a few. This one, unusually, had not tipped over at the roots, but had sheared down its trunk.

I think that it is actually one tree entirely enclosing another. The fallen half has a rounded section in the centre, darker then the rest and without the grain, also apparently showing the base of broken off branches.

The standing section has a corresponding hollow, with indentations for each of the branch stubs.


 Branch stubs.

Whilst the outer wood is healthy, the wood in the centre is completely rotten at the base, and is rotted away to leave a central hole in the trunk.

Probably a metaphor in this somewhere….

Rotten to the Core

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