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The old tree that grandpa planted when he was young was cut down.
The tree trunk lay on the ground and was so thick that it would take more than a dozen people to lift it. They took the trunks away, leaving behind the branches and roots. I burned the branches, roasted some sweet potatoes, and shared them with my cousins.
As we left, we poured water on the burned charcoal. After two pots, the charcoal had no sparks. But the roots of the tree were still burning, always burning.
From dawn to dusk...
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Remember some life, experiences, insights, and stories, update them erratically, for no other reason than to have fun.
Intention: These stories have existed.