Words, Feelings, Stories

I need trees! The pictures just aren't doing it today. At @20 degree temps, I can admire the waterfalls from my chair, but it's just not working for trees. I need the shaded hidden green areas where the giants dwell. They needn't be green themselves, which is fairly rare in this place at this time of year, but they need to be somewhere in the verdant hidden spaces that only tree lovers can find and cherish. And touch and smell, and be immersed in. I need to put my hand on the bark, and feel in my soul the stirring of the sap as the year begins again. I want to feel the moss, live and lush from recent snowfalls, or dry and dusty from cold, and feel the incipient life therein. I want life to blossom and winter to end. I want to touch the trees that touch the stars.

The fog was lightening, he was beginning to see vague shapes swirling just beyond his eyesight. Less thick, he supposed, although he really couldn’t tell for sure. The light was as white, the ‘wall’ was just as white, scents and sounds just as distorted, but there was some change. Maybe it was just that the terrain was becoming more familiar. He couldn’t explain it well, but while he couldn’t say where he was, with each step, he somehow knew. That’s how it was with a home place.  Up ahead was a dark spot, almost shiny, but a kind of shiny dull, like seeing a boulder in the fog. That was it! He was at the Big Rock, up on the Short Ridge. What was he doing there? Ahead, something moved . Something on the Big Rock.  No.  SomeONE. Someone sitting om the Big Rock, waiting. Waiting for him. Oh yes, someone! He felt a little thrill, as the same unconscious that had recognized the countryside responded to the someone. The someone becoming clearer as he closed the distance....