Little Tree in the Wood

The dog and I watched the skies for the most part yesterday and then geared up and took to the streets for the afternoon walk before I headed off to work.

It was great weather. The ominous clouds which had released heavy showers earlier, still loomed overhead but the sun had broken through, turning the sky to a velvety purple. In the distance I could see the faint outline of a watery rainbow. and the dark clouds were outlined in gold.

We did a route I haven’ t done for a while. It takes a little longer but is a walk through a small area of woodland which then opens onto a viewpoint overlooking the local golfcourse and the harbour.

We threaded our way through the muddy sections, admiring the light filtering through the trees and causing the golden pennies dropped by the beech trees overhead to sparkle on the ground and down towards the harbour I could just see, glimmering on the horizon.

On the way is a little tree I have become very fond of over the years. Twice a year someone who planted it, comes to it in an act of remembrance and decorates it.

Now it is bare but if I walk that way in a couple of weeks, there could well be a Christmas bauble or two hanging on the branches and a bunch of flowers with a personalised card tucked inside and laid carefully at its feet.

In the Spring when I go by, it’s frilly blossoms shelter another bunch of flowers and a message on the wrapper. I read it once, intrigued by this little tree and it’s meaning to someone nearby. I came to understand that the tree had been specifically planted there and that it is visited on a birthday and then again at Christmas time.

I stopped, as I always do to look at it. It’s growing well and in a couple of years, will no longer be the “little tree” but I hope it is still visited just as much. Another tree above had dropped some broken twigs onto it so I untangled these carefully, stroked the branches where small bumps of new life were just beginning to form and then walked on.

No matter how little or lost we can sometimes feel in what seems to be a very large wood, we can be assured that someone, somewhere will always be thinking of us.

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