Ever wandered into a fairy tale? I took as many photos as I could before fear of loosing my grip on the camera forced me to put it away. A white fog surrounded the wood. I was looking for signs.
Inside the forest, at the furthest corner of the farm, I felt in another world. Towering over me, the trees were half a century old, initially planted when one of my sisters was born. Did my grandfather plant the seedlings for Annie, the Mathematician, or Gwen, the Writer? I cannot recall. But clues were there, in writhing shaggy vines and tripping roots. Mystified, I almost had to cut my way through.
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