Once upon a time, many moons ago, a tree fell down – or was felled by men – having had become too big for its roots – or its boots. It was then cut into hefty sections and left to its own devices. Uninclined to do a great deal, the hefty sections of wood were, over time, engulfed by moss and bramble and tied to the ground by thick tendrils of vine. A few weeks ago I freed them and brought them one at a time up the hill in a wheelbarrow.
Now they’re sitting in a circle of seemingly ritualistic intent as I wonder what to do with them.
Here they are…
What would you do with them?
Please don’t say ‘burn them’.
I’m not burning them.