This iconic tree, one of the recognizable snags in this subalpine slope, marks a point roughly a mile to the Mt. Baldy summit. Who knows how long it has stood here. I’ve always loved this tree, weathered, no longer alive and yet still standing against the gales of winds that never seem to stop blowing. It greets me like a long lost friend. As the clouds smudged the ravines and blotted out what was surrounding it, its twisted body just stood out. It loomed tall as if it were still growing. The dry, wrinkled and crooked arms seemed stretching out further. Then, the wind zapped away the clouds and snapped me out of my reverie.
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