I had stared at him in amazement, wondering if I was in the presence of an Anatolian sage. Or was he gently making fun of me, this city slicker from far away? I couldn’t tell which. When I came to the frozen waterfall and set up my tripod, opening an umbrella to keep the snow from wetting the camera, I heard whispers. With a shiver I strained to hear. “Didn’t this human come here once before?” A tree was asking the question, and another replied, “Yes, I recognize him too. He thinks he can stop time with that machine.” Then they broke into laughter. Hours later when I took a break at one of the coffeehouses back in the county seat, the man making tea saw the smile fixed on my face and asked, “Are you all right, sir?” “I’ve never felt better,” I answered. “You see, I’ve talked to the trees for the first time in my life.”

MEMORIES AMONG THE ICE
Küre is a county in the province of Kastamonu, and there, as the verse of Ilhan Berk has it, “I made friends with some trees.” Now the roads must be snowed over again there.