When I come across a huge tree, alone in a field, I always have the urge to stop. I want to get out and look, take a picture. Maybe it's the solidarity of a huge, bare tree that strikes me. Standing alone in all its glory. There's a certain power that draws me to them.
I might be the only one that gets a little sad when I see the buds of spring on trees. It means I have to say goodbye to my bare, beautiful, solitary branches. I guess I identify more with the winter trees. I don't like fluff.



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