Ghosts in the trees…

We're told they would be found in the small thicket of Russian olive trees that lay beyond the edge of the campground. A promise that the trees would be thick with them. The wild patch of ground is thick with waist tall brambles and thistle. We gingerly pick our way through. There is no way to quietly trudge through the bracken, no way to sneak up on them without notice. The trees seem empty,...
Read More