The forest is screaming today with colour, the mellow yellow of the big floppy leaves of the lime trees, that line the avenue on the way to the grotto, sooths the eyes and the fiery copper and gold of the beech captivates the heart, leaving one with a smile on one’s face. The oak leaves are stubborn enough as they cling on for dear life, reluctant to let go of their “greeness”. Its as if they think they are almost better off being wholly green instead of partially brown-tinged. Unlike the beech, which is constantly peaking, once in Spring when the new leaves give it a newborn look or now when its ablaze with autumnal colours. Its almost as if it were saying “I’m 40 and loving it”. The sycamore leaf is perfection itself as it floats unhurriedly to the ground offering the forest floor a bed of gold, bronze and copper, laying out a carpet of fire, with the aid of its neighbouring sweet chestnut, ash and beech trees.
The Oak seems to know that it was most beautiful back in the spring and that its hay day is gone. But, Oak, I want to tell you something. Let me say that you do a great service to some members of the animal kingdom this time of year. You’ve won the hearts (and stomachs) of many a squirrel who have stored away your acorns for the winter. They are singing your praise. They think you are the best thing that ever was to grow on this planet. So hold yourself up high. You mightn’t hold a candle to the beech in term of elegance and style but you’re a faithful servant and a friendly one to plant and animal alike.