Pre-occupied with other projects, today was the first time in a while ‘my glade’ sprung to mind, perhaps because during an early walk I saw a scattering of cones on my path as if the woods were playing a haphazard game of marbles.
I realised there’s still many more images – interventions other than the cut leaves – that should be shared. The burnt rings on the dead bushes are likely to remain looking the same, but I imagine their ‘leaf collars’ are long gone – unless someone with a sense of order has replaced them. All the cut segments of leaves had been caught, gathered up and strewn within a circle of leaf mould scuffled into a low perimeter – again with a collar of ‘aperture’ leaves – I imagine that too no longer exists; too many happy dogs tearing through in pursuit of a nameless smell. Hopefully other interventions are replacing mine where children, wind and trees – in a repeating cycle – play and rearrange and play.