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I love the woods. There's something so calming about them, particularly when it's sunny, with the sunshine making it to the ground in bits, broken up by the branches and leaves. I love the way that the trees seem to be so removed from us, with our petty troubles and short lives. They, on the other hand, are moved by the wind, but unmoved by my worries. The sun shines through them when it can, the rain patters through their leaves - I used to live in a second floor tenement flat, whose living room window opened onto a big sycamore tree. When it rained (as it did a lot that summer) I opened the windows and sat listening to the rain dripping down onto the leaves - I found it almost mesmerising. I'd torn a ligament in my ankle that spring so couldn't do anything for some months and my memories of that summer (the only one I spent in that flat) revolve around the rain and that tree. Wistful, quiet, calming, steady - a solid presence

Of course the recent high winds we had have ended up with scenes of devastation in many woods, with trees uprooted and huge branches torn off and scattered as if they were mere twigs. The trunks are left denuded, bereft and almost naked... so sad.
sigh. 
But it's nature, a force we don't understand and can't control. We must simply accept.