Spooky Tree was a landmark in my little rural bailiwick, and it stood for decades at the edge of a neighbor’s farm field across the ditch on the township lane that winds back toward town.
It was a black walnut, shaped and sculpted by winds and storms over its time. Each fall, some neighbor would park on the berm and fill baskets with the richly aromatic walnuts and haul them off to their purposes.
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