A busy day on the landing yesterday. Zane got to see the purple decomposers before the blocks were split into smaller pieces. We had a visitor again! A hairy woodpecker taking advantage of the abundant grubs and insects falling out of the logs! Jen and I had one visit the other day on the other landing. Probably a different one but my imagination wants to believe it’s the same one.He (or she?) drawn by the sounds of our activities. A type of symbiotic connection. Food for the woodpecker and enjoyment for us.The decomposers are a different sort of symbiotic relationship. Not with the dead wood but through their connection with us.That’s a little more difficult to explain at the moment. Suffice it to say I have reached a tiny place of peace in the lost mixed forest. To say they are just trees would underscore my connection. I walked beneath these giants of the farm as a boy. Stood in their shade to catch my breath in the dog days of summer as I searched for missing cattle. Drilled and set the taps into them with the thrill of anticipation. The coming days of “ torture” in a full on syrup season. Watched them suffer ice storms and the first major tent worm infestation. Yet still they survived these silent monarchs of the rocky ridges. I watched them age as I watched my father age. I too would age. But new growth sprouted and took root. Saplings and a toddling boy would enter the forest setting. We’d lose trees a few at a time just as we would lose those we loved. The seasons would cycle. Many things would change. The trees would begin to symbolize something far greater. This is a story like no other. Years in the making. Far from over in hope and faithful determination. One to write with hidden messages. Observations and openness of heart. A far bigger picture waits to show itself to us. And the tiny decomposers begin to open the closed doors to let us pass through.