I love the dense forests of northeastern Alabama, where I grew up. The moist, earthy fragrance of the leaves of uncountable previous years slowly decaying on the forest floor evokes memories, emotions, and a longing to walk barefoot through the trees. I love the dappled pattern of the bits of sunlight that are able to penetrate the canopy and the lovely, soft lichen that grows on the bark of certain trees.
When I was a lad, we had three gigantic oak trees in our yard. Each of them was at least a meter in diameter. The gnarled, twisted roots splayed across the surface of the ground, providing an endless variety of imaginary landscapes for my siblings and me to play. As I grew a bit older, I used to create fantasies in which those three trees were central. They were sentient, of course, and talked to each other and to me. They told me stories of their youth. When Columbus made his “discovery” of the Americas, they were young, slender saplings. They told me stories of the Cherokee Indians who lived in the area. They were marvelous companions for a wee boy with a vivid imagination!
Everything has a beginning and an end. Sadly, all three of those trees fell victim to lightning and now only live in my memory. One of them, the one we were able to climb and play in, made its way into my book, New Yesterdays. We had grand times playing under those wonderful trees. I’d like to find a portal to take me back, just for a bit, to those days when the trees talked to me and told me stories.
Enjoy these pictures of trees gleaned from the web.
Autumn Colors, Lake Chinnabee, Talladega National Forest, AlabamaLive Oaks in GeorgiaAngel Oak Tree
Jim L. Wright is a storyteller with a lifetime of experiences as colorful as the characters he creates. Born and raised in Piedmont, Alabama, Jim’s connection to the land, history, and people of the region runs deep. His debut novel New Yesterdays is set in his hometown, where he grew up listening to stories of the past—stories that sparked his imagination and curiosity for history.
Today, Jim lives in Leeds, Alabama, with his husband Zeek, a tour operator who shares his passion for adventure and discovery. Known affectionately as “Ol’ Big Jim,” he has had a diverse career that includes time as a storekeeper, an embalmer, a hospital orderly, and a medical coder. There are even whispers—unconfirmed, of course—that he once played piano in a house of ill repute.
No matter the job, one thing has remained constant: Jim is a teller of tales. His stories—sometimes humorous, sometimes thought-provoking—are often inspired by his unique life experiences. Many of these tales can be found on his popular blog, Ol’ Big Jim, where he continues to share his musings with a loyal readership.
Jim’s adventures have taken him far beyond Alabama. For seven years, he lived in Amman, Jordan, the world’s oldest continuously inhabited city. His time there, spent in smoky coffee shops, enjoying a hookah and a cup of tea while scribbling in his ever-present notebook, deeply influenced his worldview and his writing.
When Jim isn’t writing, he’s thinking about writing. His stories, whether tall tales from his past or imaginative reimagining is of historical events should read from his past or imaginative reimaginings of historical events, reflect a life lived fully and authentically. With New Yesterdays, Jim brings readers a rich tapestry of history, fantasy, and human connection.
Visit his blog at www.olbigjim.com to read more of his stories, or follow him on social media to keep up with his latest musings and projects, one of which is a series that follows Bonita McCauley, an amateur detective who gets into some very sticky situations.
His book, New Yesterdays, can be found at Amazon US, Amazon UK, Smashwords, and Barnes and Noble.
Any redistribution or reproduction of part or all of the contents in any form is prohibited other than the following:
You may print or download to a local hard disk extracts for your personal and non-commercial use only
You may copy the content to individual third parties for their personal use, but only if you acknowledge the website as the source of the material
You may not, except with our express written permission, distribute or commercially exploit the content. Nor may you transmit it or store it in any other website or other form of electronic retrieval system.
I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints who loves to hike, to play music, make amazing fun food, carve wood, grow plants, to read good books and explore the world!
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
"Welcome to The Brit in Transit – your go-to buddy for stories filled with adventures, challenges, and the joy of self-discovery while navigating the wonderful chaos of life across the globe. Hop on board as we kick things off with tales from Washington DC, Florida, New York, and Connecticut, then embark on a thrilling journey through the historic wonders of Greece, Italy, and Spain. Amidst the wild ride of adaptation, our blog is here to share the laughter, unique experiences, cultural quirks, and even a bit of love. Join us in this friendly narrative that spans across diverse landscapes, from Europe to the United States and beyond. Come along for a dose of growth, resilience, and the ongoing pursuit of a seriously meaningful life abroad. Start your friendly adventure with The Brit in Transit today!"
It is always sad to know a friend is gone forever. This can apply to trees as well. I enjoyed your tree post and a revisit to Kilmer’s poem.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for coming by today, John, and for your kind words.
LikeLiked by 1 person
😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Outstanding pictures!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, GP! I appreciate you stopping in today!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Always a pleasure.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Fine pictures of the trees, Jim. It’s too bad some are gone, but sure nice to read Joyce Kilmer’s work again.
LikeLiked by 1 person