Hey there Reader, From the Trail: Reading the Bark Some trails you walk. Others, you read. There’s a grove of old white oaks near my favorite loop, huge, gnarled things with bark like topographic maps. When I slow down and trace them with my eyes, I can almost feel the years. Storms survived. Seasons layered. Time is recorded in ridges and furrows. That’s what I love about burning trees. They hold their stories in texture. And when we burn them, not just outlines, but texture and grain, we’re...