The biggest tree (TBC) in the world is at my local park. It's ticked away amongst a bunch of less enormous grove-dwellers and seems to be often overlooked. It is so tall that it touches the moon when the orbit takes it directly overhead and touches its toppermost branches. The rustling of those branches scraping over the cratered lunar surface is unlike any other sound. Moon beetles take their opportunity and head earthward, returning a month later with news from above/below, and leaves as evidence.

Today it was zero degrees and the tree was cordoned off with security fences. Signs declared storm damage. I have half expected the eventual end of the tallest tree since first discovering it a year or two after moving around here.  Local park risk assessments were always likely to end its ascent toward other solar bodies. Maybe that time has now come.

Meanwhile a wood pigeon has taken to perching, solitary, on the corner of a neighbour's roof, surveying the feathers below of its partner in life who met an unforgiving cat a few week's ago. Sometimes a blackbird accompanies it, ignored, but expressing sympathy nearby.