To be continued... why I don't know, but I like the way writing this makes me feel

I want to sit under an apple tree. It doesn't even have to be an apple tree, though I like the ring of that. But it really doesn't matter. This tree would have a great big trunk and branches that go down and out. They would form a magical little canopy above my head and slope towards the ground in a ring all around me. Not too low though, or that would make the claustrophobia and arachnophobia rise to the surface and threaten to send me scurrying off into the sunset, shaking from limb to limb. Suspended gracefully from the mother branches would be the offshoots that grow thinner and thinner the closer they get to the end. They grow so slender that, when entwined, the tiny branches form a sieve through which I can view the world.

I am resting against the rough bark of the trunk, but the wood has an agreeable shape; it conforms to the contours of my back just so and I feel cradled in its ancient vastness. I want to just sit here never forced to move. The land chases the horizon and the sky is like a giant cut out in the scene. An idyllic mass of blue nothingness that when looked upon removes the eyes from all worldly chaos. A serenity washes over me. An overwhelming sense of peace. Inspiration. A wild rush of emotions enters my conscious mind all at once. Excitement. I can't pin exactly what I am thinking but I know it is something wonderful and the lithe murmur of the thought wisps fills me with meaning. If thoughts are not naturally articulated when they appear before the mind, are they not mere feelings? I find solace in the idea because that means it's okay the way I sometimes can't catch my thoughts and let them flee to the oblivion they came from. 

It is summer and the backlit grass is the brightest shade of green I've ever seen. So bright the pigments pulsate within the gullible framework of my eyes. It smells like summer, and that is my favorite part. I can sense the aroma on my skin, taste it as it tumbles into my nostrils. It consumes me until summer is all I feel.