A storm is coming to the Dehesa, as the storms come into our lives.
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Over the high peaks of the Sierra de Ojen, a winter tempest approaches on the back of African winds.
As the late sun rests upon the sentinel trees, a fretful wind disturbs their branches.
Then back to that absolute stillness that precedes the torrent of mountain deluges.
These are the storms that rip the very trees from the ground, and the giant oaks seem to grip harder to the earth with their adamantine roots.
All around me, the ecology holds its breath in silent sylvan prayer against what is to come.
Photo: Cork oak forest at Los Tornos. Courtesy of the author.