The North York Moors dales, after enduring months of rain and unseasonably cold temperatures, have erupted into a lush and vibrant green. The pastures, the crinkled oak leaves, and the dark crowns of the conifers in Barker Plantation all pulse with life. This intense greenness assails my senses: I hear it in the blackbird’s song, see it juxtaposed with the pink foxgloves, and feel it with every breath. I wonder if our eyes are naturally attuned to green light, causing this overwhelming sensation. Regardless of the cause, this verdant display almost makes me forget why I am in Bransdale — to volunteer with the National Trust.
Green is more than a mere colour. Derived from the Old English grene, it is linked to words such as ’grass‘ and ‘grow,’ suggesting an ancient understanding of green as a symbol of life itself. Yet, this green dominance is fleeting. Soon, the foliage will loose its brightness, the Moors will transform, draped in swathes of purple ling as nature’s ever-changing palette shifts once more.
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