Trees have a very different beauty during the winter. Stripped of leaves by now, they stand starkly naked, skeletal and dark with rain. Sometimes they acquire false leaves when flocks of birds come to roost in them, like rooks. There’s something poignant about a winter tree; it looks dead, but if you examine it closely, you’ll see that at the tip of each twig is a tightly furled bud. If you listen to a winter tree, placing your ear against the bark, you may sense it dreaming. Winter to a tree is like night is to us: a time to rest, recuperate, consolidate and dream.
The evergreens have the stage all to themselves in winter.