"The rolling fields, the hoary oaks,
The road meand'ring lone."
H. P. Lovecraft, from Solstice, 25 December 1925
In a cemetery, I often find weird and distorted trees as if they have absorbed and been conduits for the restless spirits. Here we often call them haints, a variation on "haunted ones", i.e. ghosts. In this case, a tree is filled with mistletoe. Technically these are not witch's broom, but they are allusive of witch's broom and very eerie. I found that this gave an impression of a Medusa towering to the sky this day.
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