I’m back in the city, but I may have to keep posting about nature for a while, because now the outdoors is changing almost before our eyes. Every incarnation is fleeting and very exciting. Even a long-dead log lying in a stream.
The log’s hollow is a museum of everything dead and dried out from the previous season. The watery medium in which it rests is a registry of the present, its surface a living digest of the terrestrial, ethereal, and aquatic.
I happened to look down from a foot-bridge, that’s all. The stream showed me two realities of a tree.
