The breakage

A run around the poplar's copse where the Copse Oak stands. I greeted the oak, with some ceremony, as it happens, and looked up pleased to see the leaves. Then I looked down and realised that a large limb had fallen.

I had to navigate my way through a nettle filled ditch, wearing shorts. And there, sheared off... The limb looks as if it was rotting inside, the base of the stem has hollowed out, so the heart wood must be decaying.

It was a big branch.

In this dry weather, trees will drop branches like this. To save resources, I suppose. I was worried though and hoped that it wasn't cause for concern.

The oak drew my attention to his proud trunk though, suggesting that he is stalwart and resilient.

And where the branch had rasped the stem, and a dead branch remained half upright, I was captured by the beauty of colour and shape.

Always, trees remind me of the beauty that there is in letting go.