Deeply in love with this book; “Pollard” by Laura Beatty.
“Witness, it whispers, its leaves interlocking, witness the change. On the cut timber, stacked in pyramids down the felled rides, you can count the years. Trees keep time inside out, and in circles. But the wood’s older than that. We are still growing, the trees tell each other. Despite everything. We are still working with water and with light. Breathing with many mouths. Balancing with exactness, and without thinking, the ratio of roots to shoot, calculating dieback. Witness, the trees say, as the years go by. There are no similarities between a man and a tree. As far as we can see.”