The naked mystery of the winter tree

Wenlock Edge, Shropshire: This old field maple, stripped of all its butter-yellow leaves, seems to be floating in the dim lightThe day goes on as it begins: a wet flannel across the face that smells of mould, a mizzle, violet tinged, December's dimmer-switch stuck on three, from what might have been dawn to what might become dusk. Beautiful.Looming from this foggy myopia is a tree. It is a field maple, Acer campestre, ancient, with a great knot of roots that shows how the field has eroded from weather and sheep scraping a shelter or seeking sanctuary. The root-knot, of Medusa's petrified snakes, supports a single straight trunk, clear for about 6ft, then opening into an irregular-shaped canopy 20ft tall and almost as wide. The butter-yellow, five-lobed maple leaves have fallen and its winter nakedness is an intricate tracery of twigs bearing brown buds, raindrops and vivid daubs of lichen. It is a small tree compared with the ash and oaks, but probably older than them. Continue reading...