When I moved to the mid-deep suburbs in 2001, part of the charm was balance between city and country. Access to people; access to anything but people. I like to drive and sometimes like to get away.I noticed that on this one street (Muddy Branch Road), one of the historic farms still rested comfortably. Not (yet) developed into shitty town"homes" filled with minivans, property alarms, and private patrol. This street represents to me the tipping point of civilization. But, I'll spare you that soliloquy for now. Anyway, there's this tree there...
This tree without name, without GPS location known to me, but filled with personality, strength, and grandeur. I remember back in 2001 thinking, "Damn, I love that tree. Someday I have to photograph that tree."
And, love that tree I did. I must have passed that tree more than a hundred times in my five and a half years living on this tipping point. Through season, wind, storm, lightning, birth, death, war, famine, and the rise of the neofascist state, that tree stood perfect.Sunset. Sunrise. Rainbow. Blossom. Fall. That tree stands perfect. At the edge of civilization (and the edge of comprehension).
Today. I finally stood strong with it and snapped 49 photographs that do not begin to express the simple appreciation I have for that tree - my tree. I know that someday soon -- and hopefully after I move from these god forsaken suburbs -- that tree will succumb to greedy, fucked-up humans and their need to build shitty town"homes" for profit. I hope I move first and miss that entirely though. Outta sight, outta mind, comrades.
I love that tree. I am obsessed -- haunted -- by this tree:
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