There are certain places I like to revisit from time to time like old friends whom I only meet once in a while.
The interesting thing about this particular place is that it provides its own frame.
In a photograph (like in any picture), the frame is the border between us and what we see.
Here, the frame consists of dead wood, horizontal and vertical, and allows the view into a changing and living nature before and behind the frame.
Taking such pictures is like an attempt to cross that border.
As in The Suspended Step of the Stork, the attempt fails, over and over again.