Under the canopy

Dense islands of arboraceous clumps nestled in an expanse of meadow. I passed over chaparrals and through thickets, each one its own sheltered arcadia in a quiet place beyond civilisation . The forest I was heading towards, would frequently reappear on the horizon once I had climbed over a hill or passed through a copse or a bosk. The flatness of the meadow juxtaposed and complimented by the vertical verdancy I would soon enter. A pillared, mythological temple. The landscape around me fluctuated in one single point in time. The hills rise and fall, each fold of earth I navigated framed its own invitation. I was very aware of the changing plane that I walked upon as it fluctuated in three dimensions, the hills were rising and falling, above and under the two dimensional plane that was my visual perspective. Each fold of earth I navigated framed its own perspective of the looming body of trees. Each grouping of trees loomed past the other, their distance defined by gradating shades of green. The meeting point between meadow and tree was not as distinct and exact as I had expected it to be, it was greyness. Shrubs, bushes and small trees met the meadow long before the main body of forest. Eventually I met with a dense and seemingly impassable wall of trees. These trees are the branching components of the woods, the single components that make up a much larger and more complex organism that rests and roots itself in the soil. It lives and breathes as one entity, like the animals that sleep underneath its ceiling.