The trees in this part of Sweden are odd.
They seem custom-made. Their trunks seem just the right width for the lengths to be quartered and put into the stove. Swedish efficiency is written all over their slender trunks. They stand ripe for the axe or the saw.
There is something in their regularity that irritates me. At home forests are gnarled and thick - irregular and resistant. Therein lies their wild beauty. Here there is a touch of the standing line of soldiers. Subservience.
