Last summer, after I was done Shakespeare on the Saskatchewan, Will and I packed up the car, drugged the dogs, and went camping (n.b. we actually only drugged Kingsley. He gets really anxious in cars). It was late August, and I remember listening to Jack Layton‘s funeral on the CBC as we were driving (rest in peace, Jack. You are missed). We camped for three days at Redberry Lake. It was lovely.
On the second day, we again piled into the car, drugged Kingsley (just a little bit), and drove out to see the Crooked Bushes of genetic mutation. The trees are oddly beautiful and grotesque at the same time.. It’s copse of Aspens, young and old, that are twisted and contorted. There’s a sign that says ominously that no one knows why the trees are like this, but actually it’s been proven that it’s a
Sure, it looks normal from afar, leaves are sprouting, new branches are growing, but upon closer inspection . . . Ummm, what? What the heck is going on here?! Branches aren’t supposed to grow this way!