Fallen Giant

 My state park sticker from last year still has a month or so on it, so I popped into the state park just south of Taylors Falls both Saturday and Sunday. Saturday's photos were full of cars, people enjoying rare warmth, and super-contrast subjects. Not being what I wanted, most photos got trashed once viewed on my laptop. So I went back the next day, much colder, very cloudy, and thus empty of visitors early in the morning, the light offering much better photos. The one exception to that was green lichens on tree bark which refused to show up green, even with encouragement in editing. However details were sharp and clear, and subtleties in shading showed what I was shooting rather than lumps of black and tan.

A single tree had fallen over the winter. The base was clearly hollowed out, and the standing part was itself in two stacked chambers, with recently live wood and rotten wood pieces scattered around its base.

 

 Branches lay scattered behind it, while its enormous top lay in branching pieces nearly all the way to the top of the river bank.

Almost everywhere you looked the formerly healthy wood bore huge sharp splinters, pointing in all directions as if to guard the remainder of the tree from any further mischief.

Formerly spreading large limbs broke and compacted as they tumbled to the ground with all the force of the weight of the giant and the winds toppling it to the ground.

It had managed to avoid its neighbors as it yielded to gravity, but continued breaking with each additional impact of piece after piece after piece.

Finally all that was left dropped into a jumble of tangled pieces, ready to trip the unwary or poke the foolish.

For those who could appreciate it, now at eye level were the patterns in the bark, formerly out of reach, and only now disturbed enough to reveal the colors beneath beneath the outer layer.

This tiny section of an otherwise bad photo at least picked up the colors of moss and lichens from Saturday's excursion. I have no idea why all was blurred in most of them, or why the camera wouldn't pick up pale or olive greens in cloudy weather, But I'll happily swap the white bark from that day for the soft grey in the shade, just for proof it was there.
 

As warmer weather becomes dependable,  the sound of chainsaws and wood chippers will fill the park. The pieces will rightly be considered a hazard, and removed from a high traffic area. Some will become firewood for campgrounds, other small pieces scattered through the forest away from paths to nourish  current and future growth.

Soon enough the bushes lining the riverbank will leaf out and the biggest attraction will return to being watching the paddle wheelers head down river and return with their next load of tourists while others count their money to decide if they can ride the next one. No one will notice whatever scar remains to claim a fallen giant once dwelt here while they pick out their picnic tables and fishing spots. A few will hike the paths to look for trilliums, jacks-in-the-pulpits, and other protected treasures along the way, dip their toes - or more - in the flat calm of the river's edge, whether to swim or board a canoe to paddle downstream, or even hike under the highway to climb the cliff behind to the old railroad bed and hike into town.