Photo Story: Laird’s Tree Farm, Christmas Eve, 2026

Processed photo of dead trees in winter.The farmer said it took them all, bore through their core, drove the sap outwards. Needles blackened and fell. By the time it was understood, the damage was too great. He scooped a mound of needles cradled in snow, like whiskers in a porcelain sink, ran his glove along a crusted trunk. If it takes the sugar maples, he said, the dance is over.

It was too late to drive anywhere else. We were trying to do something nice together, forge a tradition. We drove back through the indigo twilight with the car’s heater blasting, the air roaring with turpentine.


Kim Murdock‘s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Ellipsis Zine and Bending Genres. She tweets from @herselfKim.

Photographer: Crusty Da Klown

One Response to “Photo Story: Laird’s Tree Farm, Christmas Eve, 2026”

  1. I love this simile: “like whiskers in a porcelain sink”

    The story captures so much emotion. Well done!

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