Top of Spruce Pine, 1938, Samuel P. Adams
I have yet to put words to the way the Scrub Pine forests reached for me when I moved to Florida. There are not a variety of trees in these parts but I do love these creatures, from the large flaky bark to their long leaves. They are unassuming trees, and survive in dry conditions. Florida is desert like really, despite its summer rain. The landscape is flat, the karst spreads beneath, its pores once pumping with spring water. I do miss finding rocks and boulders on the ground, but I have found the absence of the familiar makes space for a kind of living I need. When you question everything, there is so much you can learn.
