The natural rock path converges from three directions, extending to the north, south, and west as it encircles a miniature forest garden. To the east, cracked boulders serve as a perch for a number of small weather-hardy fir and pine trees, whose trunks, over the years, have been twisted and bent by the wind, resulting in cascades and leaning trees. Clinging to life, and those cracked boulders with their weatherbeaten roots, they remain ever green. In contrast, trees of a more deciduous nature dwell within a miniature forest garden. Moss and grasses cover the ground around these trees, whose leaves annually undertake a journey of life all their own, as a metaphor for mortality: budding, growing, turning darker green, then brilliant gold and scarlet, finally brittle brown, falling from the branches, leaving them bare in the boreal winds.