Next year we will practise havoc, In that green trench. The saws will yammer their nagging dirge, The donkeys will gather the corpses, The land will be hammered to stumps and ruin... Peter Trower, The Ridge Trees. Despite living in a treeless domain, I actually, somewhat like the trees and their branches that diminish the forever-wind and present us with squirrels. The southern tip of Greenland has trees. I’m not talking a daunting claustrophobic jungle that destroys all light that tries to penetrate the canopy, I’m talking a handful of trees, scattered about an otherwise treeless void. There are larches, spruces and pines living among the alders and birches! The landscape is green, the leaves are crisp and shiny, the late blooming flowers stand resplendent in colour, and there are no bears prowling, nor any squirrels
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