There’s the trunk of an old tree a few hundred meters from MB’s mom’s house in south-west Ireland. It looks very much the worst-for-wear, weathered to a bare totem pole-like stick figure on the edge of the grassy field. Even most of the bark is now stripped bare. Where once upon a time birds might have nested or sung from the denseness of its branches and leaves, that possibility is now no more unless mother nature performs one of her regrowth miracles. But no sign of that yet. The tree itself, or ninety percent of it at least, succumbed to a storm some years back leaving only the forlorn and desolate looking trunk as a memory of greater and greener days.
What a striking and beautiful image this is, even if it makes me a bit sad that the tree’s last little stub seems to be pointing accusingly in the direction of the wind that took its branches. The cows seem very happy, though, so at least there’s that. 🙂
Thanks for the observations H. Maybe the cows are thinking about the birdsong of the past. Who knows what cows think?!
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What is wrong with you Eyerish?
Who steals the top of a tree?
Surely it is easier to steal the bottom half?
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The Australian perspective is interesting, given that they live on the bottom of the planet, and tend to view matters in a sort of upside-down fashion. From that point of view, your comment is semi-understandable. Thanks TH.
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