Regularly drove past this location wondering how he tree would look if there was fog over the meadows. Finally, on 23 October 2024, the fog was there. Of course I waited for it to lift a bit, but the tree, sad as it is in the foreground, tells the story of life, everything comes to an end. One more time in front of camera it could shine, before probably disappearing into the stove.
It prompted me to add piece of poetry too. It reflected a feeling of that moment with me.
Fog
A blanket of mist around your emaciated bark.
Crows on your naked branches.
It won't be long now then they will cut you down.
You end up in a furnace.
Through a chimney you go up.
Plaintively you stand in the mist.
But from the beginning to the end you were subservient.
It's almost done the end is coming gewis.
(C)Tonstu