I’ve walked past this particular huckleberry for years but it was only yesterday I noticed the extraordinary lesson it was offering.
A metaphor of rootedness perhaps?
The stump that offered it life, and a strong base for its young life, has rotted quite thoroughly and is continuing to fall away, yet the strong roots continue to hold the huckleberry steady.
What a marvel! I’m going to think on this… but meanwhile, I wonder what it says to you?
Since my early days spending my summers exploring the beach, clambering on logs, playing day-long games and building forts with my friends, the tangle of silvered roots has evoked imagination and stories, conjured images of creatures both friendly and fierce.
I don't clamber quite so quickly now, and I am exploring different beaches, but my love of the driftwood shapes remains as active as ever— it is simply part of me. (Rooted in me?) Yesterday's walk along the sandstone shore, this marvellous root caught my imagination again, and I've played with the image just for fun, and wanted to share it here.
I wonder what creatures you see? and what stories it suggests?
