Three years ago a tree fell across the creek, making a natural
footbridge. The cat that prowls along the banks came across it
sometimes, and the gray crane that visits here perched on it.
For three years it stayed alive, as if it were the most natural
thing in the world for a tree to grow horizontally. Every spring
new leaves covered its branches, and every fall they turned brown
and fell away.
Then, during the drought last summer, it began to die. On the
upper trunk, concealed by the leaves to the right in the first
photo, three large fungi sprang up. One day they were just there.
The largest fungus is about a foot in diameter. It looks like a
serving bowl, perhaps a bowl for fruit.
I will be mourning the death of this tree. There aren't enough years
left for me to grow another that large.
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