This is the footbridge over one of the creeks at the lake where I live.  The last time I photographed this bridge, it was covered with snow (see the first photo in that post; the hi-res version provides more detail).  Regrettably, I could not remember what angle that picture had been taken from when I took the photograph below during a recent walk.  It would have been nice to match them, but I won’t lose any sleep over it.

Nonetheless, I still wonder: Where is your blanket?

You guessed it.  This is yet another photo of my favorite tree.  I wanted to share this one because it shows an interesting trait not visible in any of the other pictures.

The entire north-northwest side of the tree is without significant limb growth.  Looking at this photograph, I was standing northeast of the tree and facing southwest.  The right side of this perspective is the north-northwest side where very little remains of its branches and foliage.  The rest of the tree demonstrates healthy and normal growth (as can be seen from the other photos), and I am left wondering precisely why one side of this old spirit is barren when all other sides demonstrate robust vitality.

Also, let me add an aside: When I began this post, it was entitled “The angry tree” and included a large amount of dialogue.  I became increasingly aware as I wrote it that I was writing something that should not be posted.  It was too much of what will eventually become my second book.  Before I finally concluded not to show it here, I had written almost three pages.  So you don’t feel slighted, here is one small segment of that text that almost found its way online.

A brief smile crossed my face as I looked up from my perch against the ancient soul’s trunk, its breathing a low murmur echoed on the wind and felt in the ground, and I nodded slightly in acquiescence before lowering my gaze once again to the book in my hands.  I had meant no disrespect by speaking, and I felt a tinge of shame at the interruption I obviously had caused.  I wished only to share an entertaining anecdote brought to mind by the words I had read, a story from my own past that I was certain would engender a touch of joy the tree deserved to feel.  As my eyes wandered the text before me and found their place, I pondered why a spirit as old as time seemed to have no patience for my bumbling human ways.

That may yet be too revealing, or perhaps it only provides a modicum of what you can expect from the second novel.  I already said it’s about a tree.  I have hinted time and again that my favorite tree tells me stories.  This excerpt only confirms those details.  What it does not do is tell you anything about the story that isn’t already known, and therein lies the secret I hope will make it a compelling and thought-provoking concept.  And do not take this as confirmation of this book having the same first-person motif like Dreamdarkers.  This was not intentional work on the idea; it was an oops I realized just in time was more than a simple post.  I have not decided what perspective the second book will have since the first one would only work as first-person and the second one is still developing in my head and on (digital) paper; that said, the general idea lends itself more to third-person (especially third-person omniscient).  But nothing is written in stone.

Enough talk; more pictures…  Here’s the wounded tree.

One thing that makes this tree so attractive is its position near the lake.  Although the tree would be fascinating and beautiful in any environment, being so close to the water makes its shade all the better for sounds of water lapping at the shore and wildlife enjoying the man-made refuge.