I stopped the car out near the tip of the point and walked over to a huge tree fallen with its roots twelve feet in the air.

Has another tree fallen upon the pompous old fool?

But past there the roads kept getting worse and worse-trees grown up, trees fallen around everywhere, lots of washouts, bridges gone.

After about half a mile we come to a tree fallen across the road.

It gets very narrow, and the gobs have made a log bridge- a tree fallen across it.

Following the winding road through the dense forests, I was not particularly surprised to come around a bend and find trees fallen across the track.

Then the duckling climbs a tree fallen on another tree.

He walked to the edge of the bluff, expecting to see many trees fallen.

He glanced up in time to see the giant tree fallen smack across the middle of the road.

And the basin was full of trees: fallen, burning trees, with flames licking ponderously.