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  • The other day I went for a walk and was brought back to a place where the council are having many trees cleared to make way for the re-opening of the Stroud canal which over more than a hundred years ago before it later fell into disuse was an important economic life-line for the town, connecting it with the river Thames in London. Nature in all her inexhaustible multiplicity had since returned to the Stroud canals in the time that had elapsed prior to its gradual abandonment. In this particular place where they have been cutting down trees, the Stroud canal had returned to a small marshy copse (old english word for a small wood). It was startling to find this tangled corner of wilderness, where a monumental Victorian railway bridge marches through from the town, suddenly reduced to a sea of glaring and raw tree stumps (i wandered around them wondering where the animals will go now). This tree stump of a former willow tree (rest in peace) caught my eye next to the deep blue of water. I imagined it was a flower.
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