Tuesday morning, 5th November 2013, Autumn Equinox

As we were going along we were stopped at once, at the distance perhaps of 50 yards from our favourite birch tree. It was yielding to the gusty wind with all its tender twigs, the sun shone upon it, and it glanced in the wind like a flying sunshiny shower. It was a tree in shape, with stem and branches, but it was like a Spirit of water. The sun went in and it resumed its purplish appearance, the twigs still yielding to the wind, but not so visibly to us. The other birch trees that were near it looked bright and cheerful, but it was a creature by its own self among them.


Dorothy Wordsworth, 1801

The Waiting, 2011
Leaf, light, dye destruction print
211 x 211 cm / 83 x 83 " (framed)