In the deep wood of love and loss, the sun sometimes filters through Spanish moss and northern mahogany. A fog, visible only among the trees, gives a gauzy-toned ethereal quality to everything. This walk visits the light and the dark of memory, with a fragrance so pungent as to be both deeply satisfying and achingly longing. They say it's an empty chair, but actually the table disappears, and new tables appear, and the seating is never quite the same. One walks down the familiar pathways, but the destinations all changed. Nothing is ever alone in this woodland, quite, but the guides transpose. Eventually, one becomes one's own guide--on a long wanderung, deep woods, fragrant pine, bewildering moss, green and thick, despite deep shadow.