Rain pattered down on to the canopy, catching on and dribbling along the leaves. Crystal clear droplets formed at the lush green point, slowly and rhythmically grew before dropping to the shaded ground below. The earth moistened, puddles form and foliage below eagerly enjoyed the water flowing over their tiny blades; and their roots drank deep from the dampened soil.
As we search in lower and lower, we focus on some of the tiniest flora in the wood. The small three-leafed clover covering the forest floor here. Yet look closer still, closer and closer, here is a single clover. We note immediately the three leaves, with minute but perfect droplets of fresh water and we sense rather than see the minuscule threads of roots spreading down and outwards securing the anonymous plant to its unique place on Earth.
Bursting from below we see the acid-green delicate stem pushing determinedly up. Straight it rises, yet quivering gently in the storm. It has precious little light above, but knows exactly which way the sun is, and thrusts itself as close to that fiery orb as it ever can reach, before majestically spreading small leaves, ready to capture as much sunlight as they can.
That brave stem! From the dampened earth it tries its hardest to breach the 150 million kilometres to the sun. Before the clover leaves emerge it manages …… three centimetres.