By Howard Eskildsen
One misty May morning in a remote bay on Desolation Sound, rocky reflections on the rising tide gave form to the spirits of the Ancestors. As mountains, clouds and sun battled for dominance in the eastern sky, horizontal faces cast their haunting spell over the calm, sheltered cove. A traveler in their presence must tread lightly, for the slightest stirring of the water’s surface sends them scampering back into the forest, and who knows if or when they may choose to reappear.
(Photo rotated 90 degrees counter clockwise. )
© Eskildoodle 2021
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