Let Go
Often when I am out on my walks I encounter sights that steer my thoughts toward deeper subjects. Here is one that I encountered last winter. I have various paths I take the dog(s) walking on depending upon where the milking herd is quartered. Both coming and going I pass by this old grapevine: You can see one little dead vine tendril clinging to a dead twig. The main vine stretches from one tree to the next, so the twig is hanging between the trees. There is no way to tell how long the vine has held the twig prisoner; swaying in the breeze, for years maybe. Once upon a time when the grapevine was small it sent out a tendril and caught onto the small limb of a tree. It needed the support while its central stem climbed higher. But at some point the vine tore away from the tree, or perhaps it was a small tree that died. Who knows? But the main trunk of the vine continued reaching upward into the canopy of the forest, leav...