A year after I returned to serious photography, in 2009, I came across this archaic ritual:
Whenever I visited McCormick Creek State Park subsequently, I stopped here for a few minutes.
Visiting this place became a ritual by itself.
The winter of 2009/2010 was violent, and the tree got a bit dislodged.
It remained like this for another year.
But in 2012, the spring flooding carried the tree away.
Whenever I passed by, I checked how this place had changed, hoping for another fallen tree to appear on the altar stone.
Last year, something unexpected emerged.
A young sycamore has grown, lodging its roots under the rock.
Let’s be patient.
The Inner Frame 