Ghost trees

All along the tow path we've seen these ghostly white sycamores amongst the lush greenry. Their alabaster fingers reaching into the sky seem misplaced and uncanny.

The other night I was awoken by what sounded like gun shots. Natch, I assumed a crazed killer was on a campsite death spree. I rolled over and fell back to sleep.

In the morning we saw a ghost tree had fallen across the tow path close by our campsite. I guess that's what I heard--no c.k. on a c.d.s. Phew.