Krumholtz and Tuckamore

Recently I was on a great little camping trip with my father visiting from Ottawa. We were on the beach enjoying an evening sunset with a particularly blustery wind pressing in from the ocean expanse of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. He directed my attention to the pattern of the foliage along the open coastline. All the branches were pointing away from the ocean and the foliage in general was leaning away from the ocean due to an erosion-like effect from the relentless ocean winds. He informed me that this pattern actually had a name but that it was different on each coastline. In eastern Canada, it was referred to as tuckamore, whereas on the west coast, it was called krumholtz. This knowledge reminded me of a little piece of writing I had composed several years back when I was enjoying a late night outside listening to the ocean winds sweep through the treetops in my backyard.

"All the clouds had been blown from the sky by the torrent of wind sweeping through the treetops far above. One could hear the distant hissing of vast winds whistling through an endless sea of trees and foliage which grew stronger, and louder, and closer; a whisper first, and then a full crescendo of white noise sweeping through the trees with fierce heart and strength. Suddenly the great wind would come upon and whip through trees and branches in the dark abyss above with almost deafening force. The trunks of the great trees released plaintiff creaks and groans and the weaker branches high in the treetops gave with an occasional snap and crackle as they were torn asunder by the force of the great gust. Then, only a moment's calm and it would begin all over, again and again through the night. One of the great ocean's coasts was not far off; at least not far by the travel of wind. One could envision the gusts sweeping across the ocean from some distant land, dragging up great waves as it danced and clashed with other mighty forces in a fierce battle of thunder and wind over a relentless sea. Having gained size and speed from its turbulent voyage across open waters, it would rush upon the awaiting forest, smashing in through the wall of bristled treetops to calm and cool its rage."

"The great clouds of turbulent mists swept across the dusky sky in haste, as though escaping the imminent cacophony of rain."