wood and water

The fire came swiftly, sweeping through the dry, late-summer undergrowth, and the land was quickly blackened and denuded.  A month later, the rains came, hard and lashing, and rivulets of water ran down the hillside.  Torrents of mud and stone ground away the soil and washed out the base of a tree that happened to be in the way. The tree fell.  Branches became splinters on the ground.  The noise the tree had made as it fell was intense:  a cracking and groaning sound followed by crackles as limbs snapped against still-standing trees.  Now it lay there, its roots all but pulled from the ground.Ten years passed, and as the tree's bark rotted, small saplings had begun to grow from its base.  The creek ran close by, gurgling and never-ending, its water wending its way among the rocks and other fallen trees toward the ocean just half a mile away.  This tree would serve a purpose in its death:  In my work as a sculptor, I seek out