#spruces

Moon Between Spruces - David Vickery , 2017.

Canadian , b. 1956 -

The wild west Highlands of Scotland were wrapped in dense Scotch mist once again, and the world beyond Algy's home had faded away into nothingness: no sea, no islands, no hills, no sky. Nothing but mist, and beyond that, just nothing at all…

Reclining in a camellia bush which had remained reassuringly green, although it had yet to show any sign of flower buds, Algy lay back in the mild, damp air and listened to the hooded crows cawing mournfully somewhere in the talll spruces nearby, where in spring they would build their nest.

Their calls were as muffled and altered as the appearance of the trees, for the mist ensnared both sight and sound, and Algy was reminded of a mystical mist poem by Carl Sandburg:

I am the mist, the impalpable mist, Back of the thing you seek. My arms are long, Long as the reach of time and space. Some toil and toil, believing, Looking now and again on my face, Catching a vital, olden glory. But no one passes me, I tangle and snare them all. I am the cause of the Sphinx, The voiceless, baffled, patient Sphinx. I was at the first of things, I will be at the last. I am the primal mist And no man passes me; My long impalpable arms Bar them all.

#BÄRLI🐈🐾MY IMPORTANT JOB TODAY: *WOOD INSPECTOR*

MY OPINION IS😾:

AS A CONSEQUENCE OF CLIMATE CHANGE -> HEAT WAVES DESTROYED SPRUCES -> BARK BEETLES GOT THE REST😓🪵🖤 -> NOW ONLY A CASE FOR WOOD CHIPS