The furze has taken over, according to my mother, and soon will smother the trees in their infancy. This rocky path we walk once basked in the shadows of great evergreen giants. Now the walls are all green thorns and yellow flowers, not just the walls but the floor too as hardy furze pierces skyward from beneath the stones. In occasional gaps I see the babies; Sitka Spruce, not even as tall as I am yet, and everywhere more green...
