I see that the stumps which were cut long ago have furred themselves with moss, and I can’t help but wish that fairies lived among them.
In college as a writing tutor, I once read numerous student papers on chaos and fractals for some sort of math class, and I still remember how the coastline is a fractal and how the branching of a tree is a fractal, too. With the tree tops laying like scratches on the hill, I can see the chaos give way to pattern, each branch breaking away to smaller ones and then to twigs. Fibonacci’s number laid out at knee level – like corn at the 4th of July – so that I can see it, study it without neck strain. This, too, is gift.