The day we happened onto this beautiful scene at Folly Beach in South Carolina, it was not terribly windy. But these gnarled tree trunks listed strongly to the left, telegraphing how they had been forged and twisted over the years into shapes that appear to be dancing into dusk.

What memories from our trips linger with us? What do they tell us about ourselves and those special moments away from our routine lives? When we look at this image in a year, or two, or three, what will we recall of the emotion of being at that place, at that time?

These lines from a poem by Christopher Raley seem appropriate:

I thank the twisted tree

whose leaning trunk and

twining limbs have endured

Here is the subtle question we might ask ourselves when we drink in this beauty. When we, too, are buffeted by the winds of life, can we dance into our dusk?