“He’d grown unused to woods like this.

He’d become accustomed to the Northwest, evergreen and shaded dark. Here he was surrounded by soft leaves, not needles; leaves that carried their deaths secretly inside them, that already heard the whispers of Autumn. Roots and branches that knew things.”
~ Michael Montoure, Slices

i wonder what it is.

countless hours and days spent in the woods streamside all over the globe and i’ve never seen a tree like this. how little i know; i need to get out more often…