In a forest of giants we stand before a mighty tower of raw red trunk, stretching endlessly up into the sky above. It's short stubby arms of branches high out of reach above us reach squat like out at its sides in green billowy growths of green.
A cold wind whistles through the surrounding trunks and rustles the leaves as it goes, the earth smells damp and musty beneath our feet. A tranquil place in the dappled shade walking amidst the sleeping giants of red. Dwarfed by the mighty size nature looks down upon us in insignificance, simply passing through its barely aware that we're even here.