ABSTRACT
I walked up the long, winding driveway, listening to the sound of gravel crunch beneath my feet. A steady spring rain drizzled down my rain jacket and glistened on the canopy of green foliage. Majestic northern red oaks, shagbark hickories, and sugar maples lined the
drive, and a bright green moss illuminated the forest floor. I gazed across the surrounding farm fields, the oats softly swaying in the fields adorned with hay bales. Stratus clouds converged in the distance, tinged with smudges of gray, appearing as if they had been randomly smeared across the sky with a wide, flat brush. I trekked past my favorite blue spruce and a row of Norway spruces, their lengthy cones dangling from the uppermost branches.
