Going through old photos this weekend, I found three pictures from my time at Newbury.
One is taken from a tree top at sunset. An ocean of winter branches extends to the horizon beneath a reddening sky.
Another picture shows some polypropylene knotwork, the blue cord walkways high above the leaf litter.
The third photograph is crumpled and spattered with pen marks. It shows an area of denuded ridge surrounded by men in helmets and yellow coats. Inside this cordon, three trees remain standing in a line amongst the debris and carnage of a felled wood. Each tree has had all its branches removed except for the one at the very top. Right up there at the top of each of these limbless birch spikes, right up in the grey sky, there is the tiny bleak silhouette of a person clipped on.