Leaves nearing their end still fly the flag

Sandy Bedfordshire The sycamore's leaves, free to swing in the gappy canopy, seem to dance in a soundless jig

In the past fortnight, winter has descended into the branches of a big sycamore tree. As if they were the hangers-on at a party, a scattering of leaves are still flying the flag, wearing ready-to-drop yellow. Liberated from the constrictions and crowding of their erstwhile neighbours, they are free to swing in the gappy canopy. As the breeze lifts, they are raised up as one into a rocksteady beat.

Never have the leaves looked so alive as when so close to death. The great pointy-edged plates are picked up wonderfully by the wind as with no other tree around, and seem to dance in a soundless jig.