Whatever the reason, I decided to stop by this tree for a few minutes this morning. I was on my bicycle heading to Gorham for another cup of coffee and I saw the tree. I think I’ve been by this spot of road more times than I care to admit and each time I notice this majestic tree standing alone in the field. I wonder how old the tree is? What was it like in Maine at the time it first took root, and who might have come and gone as the tree marked the seasons and the years?
The writer in me has always filled in the blanks and today I was thinking about my new book, the central character (Michael Rogers – Mickey to his friends), and I needed a place for him to fall in love, a place for him to play with his young daughter, and a place to bury his father.
Somehow the ride to Gorham passed in the what seemed like seconds and by the time I had finished my coffee, I wanted to race home and write.
I am grateful for the ride and grateful for the seemingly random thoughts and ideas that somehow entertain me along the way. I am going to have to revise a few chapters, but that tree, my riding companion, just made its way into the story.
See you on the roads.