Just like Professor Drake's records, the experiences of the poet, Mr. Roland, happened this year, in the spring of 1853.
It was a sunny day, and Mr. Roland set off with his notebook and a small knife for protection, heading to the wetland lake area west of Huntington City for a springtime poetry expedition.
Although primarily a translator by profession, Mr. Roland was well-connected. Upon passing his friend Mr. Cedric's apple orchard, he leisurely wandered within, preparing to brew a poem themed around the frost on winter trees.
And when he delved into the depths of the orchard woodlands, a human face suddenly appeared on a tree beside him. To be more precise, the patterns and cracks in the bark formed a human face:
"I know it's hard to believe, but I'm sure it wasn't an illusion from being drunk."
In the tavern, Mr. Roland said this, still holding his wine glass, defending himself:
"I usually don't drink while writing poetry."
