These trees are old friends, I’ve photographed them often over the years. They lean into each other, each offering support to the other against the Dartmoor winds.

Today they stood against a wild and swiftly changing sky- warm sunshine and ominous black clouds, rays of light caressing the hills. It felt like an uncanny visual expression of living with grief. Bright memories, hope, joy even. Then great boiling clouds of darkness, of overwhelming loss, of the terror of a changed-forever future. The speed at which emotions morph and flip.

And yet, against everything that the Dartmoor weather throws at them, in spite of their quirky angles, twisted stems and broken branches, these beloved trees still stand. They still make me stop, breathe deep and just enjoy their presence. I’m so thankful today for the reminder they brought to me, that strength comes in so many forms, not perfect, not always as we expect. That being broken doesn’t mean I’m not growing through and with this grief and this diagnosis. That strength is needed most in the darkest storms