I’ve been watching the trees for about a month. Since the leaves fell. They go black against the whitening winter sky.
Each growth spurt of a branch sets off in a slightly different direction. Stark against the watery sky.
This is about a pale tartan blanket, spread out over the ground in the woods, underneath the Greenwood tree.
I’m pleased with the red apple. It’s exactly as I wanted it. It’s a bit like jumping off a cliff: you start making marks and hope for the best, looking carefully, mastering the slight hint of fear rising…and then it’s amazing when your marks end up giving the exact impression of the red apple you’re looking at.