The life of a tree

Other people’s words – Part VI

She was inclined to take it personally about the trees, wondering aloud that they did not know enough to be green, the way a tree should be, but a washed-out silvery grey so they always looked half dead. Nor were they a proper shape, oak shape or elm shape, but were tortured formless things, holding out sprays of leaves on the ends of bare spindly branches that gave no more protection from the sun than shifting veils of shadow. Instead of dropping their leaves they cast off their bark so it dangled among the branches like dirty rags.

From ‘The Secret River’
by Kate Grenville

I thought of this quote about Australian trees as I looked at my garden today:

I love my grey, ‘tortured’ trees.