“Only in stillness can your inquest for answers be fruitful, much as the apple tree’s offerings can only ripen with food and drink and nature’s soft kiss.  Angry storms can take from it its hope for generations to come, and even its life, and so it is with your people and their constant noise and scurrying to and fro like busy rodents.  You rush through the seasons and fail to let them play at your feet.  How comes an understanding of time’s quest if you notice not its passing for your hurried squirming and wagging tongues?  What hope have you to share in our sagacity when you fail to listen to all but your own senseless gibbering?”

[title and quote from End of the Warm Season as posted here; photos are of an old friend, my favorite tree, the eldest Still Watcher here at the lake, an ancient being and guiding soul upon whom I rely more often than I care to admit, as well as the path from lake to home which carries me amidst the trembling limbs of welcoming gods; I can’t wait to finish Dreamdarkers so I can start on this tale of deities and devils, of two ageless souls, both of whom are wicked and worthy, ghastly and good]