The Last Stand
This tree once stood alone in a foggy field near my home — a steadfast sentinel of quiet mornings and low whispers of wind. I photographed it on one such morning, not knowing it would be its last season. It was later removed to make way for a park and youth sports complex. I’ll admit I grumbled at first (what tree lover wouldn’t?), but there’s something poetic about its place now echoing with laughter and muddy cleats. A quiet icon traded for future memories. Still… I miss the old giant.
This tree once stood alone in a foggy field near my home — a steadfast sentinel of quiet mornings and low whispers of wind. I photographed it on one such morning, not knowing it would be its last season. It was later removed to make way for a park and youth sports complex. I’ll admit I grumbled at first (what tree lover wouldn’t?), but there’s something poetic about its place now echoing with laughter and muddy cleats. A quiet icon traded for future memories. Still… I miss the old giant.
This tree once stood alone in a foggy field near my home — a steadfast sentinel of quiet mornings and low whispers of wind. I photographed it on one such morning, not knowing it would be its last season. It was later removed to make way for a park and youth sports complex. I’ll admit I grumbled at first (what tree lover wouldn’t?), but there’s something poetic about its place now echoing with laughter and muddy cleats. A quiet icon traded for future memories. Still… I miss the old giant.