Gnarled

We took a walk along the Crinan Ferry road, which neither leads to Crinan, nor to a ferry, such is the humour of history. The low cloud and mist, which had hung on low until early afternoon, finally disolved and the day revealed itself bright but with a sharp edge to the light wind.
I was looking at the broken stone walls and bent-blown trees, but todays blip was found in the branches of one tree whose branches seemed arthritic, gnarled and bent round on themselves. They were quite a contrast to the straighter limbs of the trees further down the narrow road, where they had been combed by hours of relentless gales straight off the coast.
I suspect that this is an old tree, but that circumstances and position haven't favoured upward growth. Still, you don't have to be big to have character.