The sweet smell of Manzanita woke me up this morning. They grow in thick clusters among white fir and yellow pine. The trailing smell of incense cedar
and the possibility of life inside this tree, kept my imagination alive today. Perhaps if we were to sketch a doorknob here, we might be able to enter, at least to peek inside:
I imagine a damp floor with rows of glittering mushrooms. And bare-foot children looking after them, drunk on laughter. The walls are syrupy, painted with sap; red spiders, the size of salt grains, suck inside the sticky ooze. It is hot and wildly humid inside, but the children are all happy. And when they believe that no one is standing on the other side of the door, they open it and spill outside; their small, bare bodies parading in hellish humor. They work quickly at gathering up as many fallen Manzanita berries as they can find. The pump, red seeds are just the size of their own heads. When they settle back inside of their tree-home with their treasure, they squish the seeds and collect the sugar from inside. I imagine the rest of their day spent stirring the seeds and skins with prickles of pine needles, starting a small fire, and watching their cider simmer. And all is warm and sweet and happy inside.
What do you imagine might live inside of trees?
