The oaks to be found along the Alde - a tidal river with an expansive estuary that floods out in the North Sea - are dying. These oaks are several hundred years old. Their natural metabolism doesn't allow for the ingestion of salt water. Climate change and a policy of allowing greater inundation of the land spells their death knells. Rising sea levels is toxic to these ancient oaks.
Death is slow. Branch tips die. Leaves retreat. Wood turns silver grey. Against an azure sky, under a spring sun that paints a soft shine on the dead wood, these skeletons are beautiful. They inspire. Age, change, dying, is life, but life we abhor. Why so? I see nothing but majestic beauty, grace and celebration.