Thursday, 22 October 2009
Somewhere in the Lake District there is this tree. On an autumn evening it stands like the ghost of William Wordsworth who may have walked by it sometime. My eyes look for a sign of the Macbeth witches hanging on the branches. I cannot find them but their presence is strong.
You may come upon this tree someday. If you do and if you possess keener eyes than me, let me know if you could see the witches.
On the other hand, it would be perfectly ok to miss this one, and arrive upon some other remarkable tree in this beautiful stretch of land that even the best poets of the time could not quite completely map.
And that's one of the things to do before you die. Walk the Lake District.