So I have to get out the screens and the lists of things to do are totally overstimulating, I long for the free headspace of a year ago, that vast emptiness when the sky and the roads went quiet and the birds reclaimed the airwaves, the hogweed is coming up fast now and will soon overtake the edges of the park
I love this willow with its little pedestal of moss and reaching branches, there’s always the magnetic pull of post to hollow tree in the glade at the river’s edge, and Mmne willow in the midst of it. The pussy willows are still turning fuzzy yellow with pollen offerings, I read that trees rely on the wind to scatter their pollen, not the insects and being much less reliable, must produce heavy loads to make it viable.