I felt trapped inside so I took my bike for a spin. Autumn is beginning to touch the trees on the hills, but the weather is still warm and the plants still pushing upwards. Huge oaks stood fat in the sun as I wound through the back roads towards Hembury Fort. I laboured up a steep lane to the cranking complaint of my bike. A gap in the hedge at the top showed the landscape falling away in humped green hills. Old oak stood up defined and magnificent before the sun, and cast an early shadow towards me. I watched the nearest giant, which stood alone in the grass, limbs reaching out in crooked elegance towards the light. The trunk rose at an odd angle for the first 10ft, possibly a memory of an old tussle for space with other trees now felled. The leaves have darkened to a deep green by this time of year, full of bitter tannins that discourage insects. They don’t take on the gold of the sunlight, but seem to glow still greener and darker. I carried on, with every roadside oak now catching my attention. Puzzling for a moment over the different character of each, the shapes of light and genetics and history, I cycled back.