I took this picture after staring at the ground a while. I do that; stop and stare. 

The leaves from last year which once hung from every branch, flourished in the sunshine and fluttered in the breeze now lay scattered across the ground. The fragile brown papery curls just wait for the next gust of wind to move them along, or the next downpour to turn their crisp shells to floppy sludge. 

Things change.

The bright green forest floor grows strong, gathering pace with each passing day. Who would stand in the way of this progress? Nature finds it's own way and fighting it is futile. 

I long to feel the fresh, thriving greenery under my feet, between my toes and whispering around my ankles. The cool. Running barefoot through the new seasonal offering, dancing on tiptoes for joy and creeping like a cat in search of opportunity. Taking a seat on the springy floor to take stock of the day before resting my head on the cushioning over night, sleeping under the stars with tiny daisies growing through my hair in the early hours. Waking at first light to be the very first pair of eyes to see the day, to own the moment.

Sophie