I walk the collie through the local forest and marvel at the intensity of the green mosses and lichen growing on the limestone boulders and the forms of dead or dying trees felled by the savage winds we get in these parts – particularly between the start of November up to the new year.

With the other side of my mind I curse the bright green stuff that invades the tiny indentations of the tarmac areas around the house. Removing it is a nightmare that involves chemicals that I’d rather not touch.

This love-hate relationship is a product of such a beautiful and wild landscape, and civilisation’s (as in tame the wild) uneasy place within it.

I saw a TV program once that ran a simulation about how quickly the wild vegetation and mosses would take over the urban landscape if we died out. Within a few months, our towns and cities would look totally different. Within a few years, they would be mere shells, completely overgrown.

You get a strong sense of that, walking each day through this wet, muddy and winter-green world. But it’s a necessary prelude to the spring, and brings its relief and renewal in with needed emotional force in this stage of the Earth’s circuit around the Sun.

The mosses and lichens are truly ancient – a hardly form of life that complements the summer, beautifully, reminded us that abundant life takes many forms.

©Stephen Tanham 2023

All photos taken and processed on an iPhone 12 ProMax.

Stephen Tanham is a writer-photographer and mystical teacher. He is the founding Director of the Silent Eye, which offers a mentored, journal-based journey from personality to the awakening of realised Self and its world of Being.

http://www.thesilenteye.co.uk and http://www.suningemini.blog