Yesterday I collected the prints of two recent film rolls, which contained, among other events, photographs of the woods I had visited earlier this month.
Early spring is a good time to visit the woods. The patchy brown of winter is giving way to a verdant green, and this period has subtle shades of both.
A friend recently shared worries about his son, already eighteen months old yet unable to speak, unlike other children in the neighbourhood. The woods seemed to have an answer: some trees were in blossom, eager to flaunt their colours; others were still in slumber, content to take things slowly, uninterested to compete.
Trees displayed their spindly outlines and also revealed the promise of a leafy appearance, full of health. In a few weeks the transformation would be complete, and it will be hard to imagine their wintry faces.