Ferns that drop their tears Over the young streams. William Butler Yeats.

jan09 050

There are no medium-sized trees in the deep forest. There are only
the towering ones, whose canopy spreads across the sky.  Below, in
the gloom, there’s light for nothing but mosses and ferns.  But when
a giant falls, leaving a little space … then there’s a race — between
the trees on either side, who want to spread out, and the seedlings
below, who race to grow up. Sometimes, you can make
your own space.
Terry Pratchett, Small Gods


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