As I wandered via the woodland panorama, I used to be struck by the kaleidoscope of colours that surrounded me. The bushes, tall and majestic, stood sentinel towards the backdrop of blue mountains that rose up in the direction of the sky like giants. Their trunks have been sturdy and durable, their bark a deep grey that appeared virtually black within the dappled shade. However as I appeared nearer, I noticed that every tree had its personal distinctive character, its personal story to inform. Some had branches that twisted and turned, like gnarled fingers reaching up in the direction of the heavens, whereas others stood tall and straight, their limbs stretching upwards like nature’s personal cathedral. After which, in fact, there have been the leaves – a riotous explosion of inexperienced that appeared to shimmer and shine within the daylight like a thousand tiny jewels. As I walked deeper into the woods, I started to note the delicate variations in hue – the deep brown of decaying leaves, the smooth white of latest development, the colourful blue-green of ferns and mosses that carpeted the forest ground. It was as if every tree had its personal distinct persona, its personal means of expressing itself via shade and texture and type. And but, regardless of their individuality, they appeared to mix collectively seamlessly, making a harmonious complete that was better than the sum of its elements – a symphony of colours, textures, and shapes that sang out in good concord towards the majestic backdrop of these blue mountains.
