I am reading Meditations of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Last night I read '...the trees are imperfect men, and seem to bemoan their imprisonment, rooted in the ground...'. I thought of it this morning when I came upon these roots traveling down the trail.
It was hard to tell which tree or trees the roots were from but I was drawn to this magnificent chestnut oak.
A powerful and unique presence standing proud along the rocky trail.
Its roots, seen and unseen, told their own story of tree-movement and freedom.