As I stood on the fringe of the woodland panorama, I could not assist however be struck by the kaleidoscope of colours that surrounded me. The timber, tall and majestic, stretched in direction of the sky, their branches etched in opposition to the blue horizon like delicate pen and ink drawings. The leaves themselves have been a riot of hues – gray-green saplings stood alongside historic brown trunks, whereas wispy white birches appeared to glow with an ethereal gentle. And but, regardless of the colourful tapestry of colours, it was the refined nuances of tone and texture that really caught my eye. The tough, weathered bark of an historic oak tree appeared to whisper secrets and techniques of the forest ground, whereas the sleek, silver limbs of a beech tree shone like polished metallic within the dappled gentle filtering by the cover above. As I wandered deeper into the woodland, the colours appeared to deepen and richen, like a masterpiece unfolding earlier than my eyes – the deep blues and purples of shadowed glades giving option to sun-drenched clearings ablaze with greenery. And in all places, the timber stood sentinel, their branches intertwined in a intricate dance of sunshine and shadow, their roots digging deep into the traditional earth beneath our toes. On this woodland panorama, time itself appeared to face nonetheless – a world each timeless and everlasting, the place the rhythms of nature held sway over all who entered its sacred precincts.
