Old Man Willow

Whenever I walk one of the local fields I always spy Old Man Willow standing sentinel-like on the edge.

He surveys his surroundings, and with his deep-fissured completion and leafy mop of hair, he is wisened and could tell you many a story if you had the time to stop and listen.

Standing there through the years as the sun and the moon and the stars pass overhead, as the seasons pass by in their cycle, nature is his world, and nature is his story.

Under The Old Willow

On my local walk I often pass this old willow on the river bank. If you were to walk towards it, push back the tall grass and overgrowth, and peer closer at the moss laden boughs, you would see another world, a micro world of lichen and tiny mushrooms growing there.