Most days I try and walk along my local bridleway to visit a mature oak tree that stands all alone on a ridge in the meadows of a local farm.

Each time it stands unmoving and yet everything around it is changed.

The weather can vary by the hour but it is only by stepping back and seeing all the days together that the gradual turning of the seasons can be seen.

A familiar, comforting regularity to the rhythm of life that, so far, has withstood the ravages of time, sun, wind, rain and ice and that beats deeper and more steadily than the passing thoughts and emotions I bring to it and walk through each day.

Some I leave scattered on the path behind me to be tossed and rotted like fallen leaves. Those that are left are stronger and clearer. It’s a routine that soothes and inspires by being every time the same but different.