Yesterday, in our never ending tour of Pike Island, I waxed eloquent about the trees.
I admit I rather went on about the trees.
And then I showed just two pictures, which I thought were... pretty good.
But then I received something of a challenge from one of my fictional audience members.
"Is that all you got?" They said.
Is that all you got.
All along the Minnesota Valley Wildlife Refuge, on wild Pike Island, in the whole Fort Snelling State Park, by the rivers and swamps and shorelines of the great floodplains down there at the heart of the mysteriously still wild Saint Minneapolis, you can find the walking trees.
You, oh lucky reader, fictional or real, are about to see two walking trees. You will never be the same again. And though you are already awesome, don't worry, you'll be made by this, even better.
The walking trees are creepy, and beautiful, and magnificent, moody, scene stealers, and revealers of secrets.
The actions and floods and tides and seasons of the rivers erode the soil from the shoreline and floodplain trees, exposing their roots. The trees make more roots, and they carry on, standing on their toes, gifted with the rarest of tree abilities; to go where they will.
Spidery, human, haunted forest, and the deepest kin to the friendly Ent, the secret workings of trees are exposed. I present to you:
The walking trees of Pike Island!