Willow Patterns

Surely there is no fragrance more heavenly than the balsamic scent of willow foliage. This morning the air was heavy with it,  wafting even into the house.  As I walked under this tree to fetch the morning post, I was struck by the many little vignettes of mystery that have appeared about the tree over the past week of gales and heat and rain. Coming down my front steps the little pool, barely ankle-deep after the recent heavy rain, sparked childhood memories of deep pools where the River carves into the banks creating cool, trout retreats and swimming holes. 
Then stooping past the collapsed bough, I noticed how its
leaves
are quickly yellowing and falling to carpet the ground, creating a Tom Bombadil miniature landscape, where the ephemeral stream has passed through.
Tranquility, reminiscence... 
devastation: the crown of the willow broken in the first day of the gales.  Through this spring and early summer I have been admiring the shapeliness of this willow and anticipating that sometime soon a gale would steal its perfection. I remember my father thrusting a Y-shaped twig, cast from the older willow tree, into the the ground beside the dry stream bed, maybe 30 years ago. The Y-shape is still there in the hefty trunk, but the tree is changing its character.

Weeping willow  Salix babylonica