Bouron Marlotte, Fontainebleau. Icy evening, moon, mist and trees.
The next morning I watched as two forestry workers cut down a large diseased tree. The chain saw buzzed and sawed cuts around the tree base, one cut and another watched, metal wedges driven in to the cut. I looked at the top branches waiting to see movement. Slowly at first and then with a powerful rush of air the tree toppled. I could feel the push of air a 100 metres away. Initially a whooshing noise then a roar and then a cracking woomph as the tree hits the ground and branches explode in all directions.