Last year Roger showed unbridled delight as he proudly demonstrated a small leaf peeping over the top of his tree guard. Whilst making all the outward signs of being most impressed I quietly wondered what all the fuss was about. It’s a small tree … they grow!
Now, every morning I find some excuse to wander over to the croft. I usually mumble something about feeding the perfectly fat hogs or walking the dog, however foremost in my mind is the pressing desire to watch saplings.
Every day I walk measured and astute, like a judge at crufts, up the fencing line of our newly installed shelter belt. I monitor the shine of the leaves, the hue of the bark, the form of growth, but mostly I revel in the inner glow that comes from just watching my babies tentatively reaching out to the elements and flourishing.
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