A neat log
Its a log quarter from a cherry, maybe twelve inches in diameter. I like the way the tree grew around the broken limb, completely encasing it. Even preserving it. The grain of the wood rippling and changing directions to get around the limb.
I saw another earlier in the season where a burrowing insect had used a dead limb to gain access to the heart wood. Or maybe it was the escape route. When I split the log, I could see the path regardless of direction.
There was an old oak out on the corner of the back yard. It was slowly falling to the ground of it's own accord. I wanted to put a fence nearby. I cut it for firewood so I would not have to worry about it falling on the fence. It was a venerable tree that had fallen on hard times. But it had been a member of the community. There were nails that had disappeared into the tree forty years ago. Maybe someones tree house, or a corner for a fence line. And long before those nails, someone had cared enough to trim the limbs near the ground. And like the cherry, those old limbs were grown in, deep inside that four foot diameter trunk. The swirls of grain made it hard to split.