This scene might look silent, but there was far more going on than might seem immediately apparent. The mist was rising from the valley, lingering and swirling through the Mountain Ash. The ferns were swaying in the soft breeze, as if �bathing� in the shadows of the giant trees. Whip-birds could be heard, as though calling for lost lovers or friends; there was a gentle sound of rainfall and a rhythm of a babbling brook, all adding to the forest symphony. And then there were the trees themselves, shedding their bark as they reached valiantly towards the sky. It was as if, no longer confined by their old clothes, the trunks were now able to soar to greater heights. It was like a reminder: we often have to let go of the old, so new growth may come.