Counting rings

I got back to work in the shop today, but on the way back from a short shopping spree I stopped to count the rings on the remains of that poor old tree I mentioned friday last. It turned out to be exactly the same age as me, as near as I could count. Not quite so old after all at 44, but I feel even greater affinity for it knowing we had this other thing in common. The garden of moss on the bark and the plethera of little epiphytes who have come down in the world are still thriving with all the rain we are having, but I suppose it is just a matter of time for them too.

Squiffy Artrage sketch