I thought of calling this ‘a moon without trees’ but in truth it has been full of them – the froth of blackthorn blossom washing over a local patch of wasteland; the falling petals of the cherry plum mingling with April snow; the first unfurling of the sap-sticky sycamore leaves – and of course, alder, strewing catkins on the woodland paths we walked. I have sat with all of them, this moon, without delving deeply into any. I needed a fallow moon to let this project breathe.
notes from the wayside 