Walking through pygmy beech trees on an exposed ridge, there is something eerie about the moss and lichen and low cloud drifting through the trees. About the quiet too, because but for the odd chirp and tweet, the forest is silent.
A brief history
I hope one day they’ll plant me in
The kind of hole they dig for horses
Under a hilltop cabbage tree.
James K. Baxter, 1950
This website is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.All content is copyrighted to the creator of the content.General disclaimer.