“You know me, I think there ought to be a big old tree right there. And let’s give him a friend. Everybody needs a friend.”
― Bob Ross
Only a tree, with roots and branches crawling, reaching, changing. I can’t help but notice those around me. Rustling and swaying above, the anxious rumpus of yellow beckons in drying and falling leaves, betraying the dying of a month. Four weeks ago the same trees bustled…
