School is back in session. The night time cool hits us late in the evening, which is appearing earlier and earlier. Fall is scratching at the door. Although I'm always sad to say good bye to summer, I've always loved fall.
After school, the boys and I set out for an impromptu local hike to balance the changes. We scamper up a canyon near school to catch frogs, traverse a river in flip flops, smell water on rocks, observe and experience.
A portion of the creek is cleared of trees. Nearby, the remnants of long trunks and limbs lay portioned into neat stacks. One stump speaks clearly to us, "I love you". I wonder about the hand that carved it; the person who inspired the carving. The longing looks at each other. The touch of the knife on the tree with the carver's mind wandering to the love interest who inspired the desecration of the bark. A bit of love lingers etched on the tree long after the sharp cut.
I wonder about the circumstances that felled the tree. I think about the person that took the time to cut the inscription so thoughtfully. All these possibilities bundle together, an emotional maelstrom lived in the past, and I feel the sentiment so thoroughly in my own way.