Nestled within the ancient embrace of a colossal oak, survival hinges on respecting its age while harnessing its strength. I wove flexible hazel branches between massive, low-hanging limbs, creating a sturdy platform. Thick layers of dry bracken and moss insulated the base, then I layered overlapping sheets of bark peeled sustainably from fallen limbs. A dense thatch of ferns and leafy branches, angled steeply against the trunk, shed rain. Inside, compacted duff and a small, carefully contained stone-ringed fire (fed only by deadfall) radiated precious warmth, its smoke dissipating high in the canopy. The old sentinel, hollowed by time, now cradled life once more – a warm, dry refuge whispering of resilience.
