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There is a need to approach Sunart oakwoods obliquely. Like sitting. Sitting very still, alert & relaxed, waiting for something to arrive: a deer, maybe, or an owl. If I look at trees in the dusk directly, they dance in vision; it’s the way our eyes are physically made. Look to one side & the tree is clearer. I approach trees sideways, a little nervous of their history & presence. I count geese, deer, list mosses, enumerate spiders, look out to sea with my back to the woods, holly & birch & alder all around. It’s as if to look directly is to somehow obscure a latency, a voice that I want to listen to; but it’s not enough to be attentive, scientific; it’s necessary to be receptive. I’m impatient. I’ll not live as long as an oak.