…the fence blocks socialization, the tree doesn’t participate in any kind of conversation; I can only guess at its stories, its past, who visited before, the pain it must have felt when the fence was nailed to its side.
Isolation – it’s a bitch. In my next life, please, don’t let me be a tree.
Light in October is different than in June or February. The trees, the fence, the little trailer; they all plead, beg…like me…to hold on to the warmth even after the sun goes down. There’s no need for begging in June – the warmth will hold on. In February, there’s just no point in begging. But in October, in the deep south, leaves are still mostly green, the light is warm in every sense, but after the sun drops below the horizon…
A place on the White River near Hesperia, Michigan, just upstream from the M-20 Bridge; it’s an easy place to get in the water and looks as if there would be lots of trout, but I’ve never done very well here. The well-worn path through the woods indicates that more than a few fishermen wade this stream. Maybe they’ve already taken all the trout.
Another side of the story is that it’s a quiet, beautiful place to spend a summer afternoon just being.
My favorite place is wherever I am…or, most often, someplace else.
Regardless, those places always include green trees, water, moderately warm temperatures, and frequently – adult beverages.