It's starting to look a lot like Easter, everywhere I go... The grass is green, and long, perfect for nestling Easter eggs. Between the redbud, the dogwood and the various “peachy” buds, not to mention the delicate green of newly opened leaves, the hills look like an Easter Egg. He is risen! The Green Man returns; the resurrected god.
It's Little Five Weekend!
I'm not sure what sparked the memory but the other day I recalled the mystery of the forest behind my house, before they cut the trees. Everywhere you looked was harmonious elegance; the cacophony of young growth long orchestrated by the conductor of need. All the sunlight utilized, yet none of the branch tips touching. But it wasn't all brightness and light. There was a dark side, intimated by the evident decay; the rotten, hollow logs.
Whether they were forgotten, abandoned, or discarded there were several child's dolls mouldering into the substrata just behind my house. I put their heads into the gaping woodpecker holes of senior sassafras. I remember one in particular with one eye open, the other permanently closed. This somehow expressed that beautiful immanent darkness; Headhunters' Light.
Those might have been some of the last honest hollow logs in the State of Indiana; long since disintegrated.
I feel confident that there are known, yet undiscovered hollow logs in these here environs.
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