I love trees. Tolkien breathed life into them and named them “Ents;” and I can relate to his fascination with them. They have gnarled lines that stand out with strong character, and as they grow they take on even more distinct characteristics. This wizened old tree stands guard over a ragged field, but birds still fill it with spring-time song. I bet it has many years left in it. Britt took a shot of this same tree a few days ago.