Although alive with bird song, mostly the robin’s, this mountain meadow feels like a cemetery. It’s the dead shore pines. Their carcasses stand above poorly drained soil that could no longer support them. Aki focuses on the living, those still capable of leaving her scent messages. Stationary shapes mean little to her. But I am a little in awe of these bark-less statues that took so many years to reach their size. Hunger for sun and an ability to tolerate soil that would not support spruce or hemlock allowed them to tower above lady tresses, shooting stars, and now flowering grasses. With patience I find a black and white beauty in their form.