There’s no denying the appeal of dead trees: they look more human. Radically simplified, barkless, and highly individualistic, with a tendency to go off-kilter.

When a tree dies standing, it loses contact both with the sun and with the family-like underground web—it ceases to be a conduit and a node, and goes fully on its own for the first time since it was a seed. Except of course it doesn’t go anywhere. And it’s about to play host and feast for a teeming metropolis of fungal, microbial, invertebrate and even vertebrate life. (Yes, Virginia, there is life after death. Just not your life.)

taking my hat off
to the March sun

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