A lonesome oak, perhaps the last of an ancient grove.
The contrast is almost shocking between the brownness of its demise and the greenness of Spring renewal on this part of the mountain.
In its final act of standing senescence, it is clear to see the effects it had upon this ecology.
The circular greensward of the lawn in which it grew is no accident.
For many animals would have been drawn to the shade of this old tree under which they would have grazed and slowly, over time, created the herb rich meadow from the bushes of the Dehesa.
In the Autumn, the wild boar would have arrived in search of acorns and the delicate bulbs and tubers under the rich earth.
Now with that shade gone, the shrubs may well encroach shroud like over this clearing and cover it once more with the fearsomely spined bushes of this place.
Somewhere close, a young oak will already be casting its first tentative shade, and so the whole story begins once again.
In this way, the whole landscape changes, constantly in motion as a testament to its almost animal like self.