....back to the roots.
I spent plenty of time as a kid climbing on fallen trees. There was a really nice creek near my house that ran thru a section of woods. I used to love playing on the fallen trees, pretending the trunk was a bridge and that the shelf of exposed roots was a castle wall. Every spring, the creek would flood and take with it a few trees that were unfortunate enough to have spent their life being nurtured by the abundant ground water that the creek provided.
The creek was alive.
and it was hungry.
It would lure the trees in by providing them with the water they needed, but to live and grow the creek also needed things. It needed fallen trees. The trees it took would block the water's path, slowing its flow, deepening its throat, widening its reach. The spring thaw would awake the hungry monster,and through the passing of its torrents it took bites at the dirt under the roots until it could claim another victim. As a kid, I couldn't see the creek for what it was. I reveled in the wildlife that thrived within its limits. I spent countless hours catching minnows and crawdads while wading in its constant flow, not realizing that it couldn't tell the difference between my young legs and the trees that it constantly hungered for. While I was struggling to hold my balance in the swift flow, the creek was tirelessly working to claim another meal, to pull my small frame into its depths and deposit me amongst the other victims it had already claimed.