Thursday, September 13, 2012

On Trees



So there we were, spending a quiet afternoon.
And then.
Crash.
With no warning, in an eerie imitation of the NY towers that fell 11 years ago, our neighbor's rotten tree toppled across our driveway, taking part of the Lincoln, Johnson's truck, electrical wires, a transformer and the flag pole with it.
No wind. No rain.
One minute is was standing. The next it was down.
Guess that's what they call an act of God.
It could only have been God's hand that moved the old oak just a few feet to the north of the house.
It would have been a very different story without that Grace.

The trees in our neighborhood are said to be over 100 years old. Most of them are called "water" oaks. Most of them rot from the inside out. They look pretty on the outside, full and alive. It's the rotten core you can't see that you have to worry about.

While I'm filled with gratitude that the damage was so much less than it could have been. I'm also sad at having to say yet another goodbye. Not so much to my neighbor's tree, but to the two oaks left in our yard. Weighing in on the side of prudence, we've contracted to have the them cut down. Johnson is pretty sure the one nearest his room and the aiming right for the roof is in sad shape. The slightest of breezes causes it to creak like an old lady's knees. The other stands like a sentinel,  tall and proud, right in the front of the house. It's been there longer than the house, longer than we've lived here. It has survived rain and wind, lightening and ice, and even other trees crashing into it. It has provided shelter for birds and squirrels, probably a few other critters I'm glad I don't know about.

Things change.
Old things pass away.
New things take their place.
Memories linger.
Love, like springtime, refreshes the changing landscape.
My job, like a giant oak, is to plant my feet on solid ground, stand firm in the face of adversity, bend with the wind, soak up the sun, dance in the rain, make room for visitors, wave at the stars, provide shelter and solace, share my beauty, raise my arms to heaven, and bless the earth with my countenance.

Wishing for you the comfort and safety,

Merry ME

3 comments:

Lilly said...

Oh my, it is very lucky there was no one standing neary or in the truck. What a shock.

wholly jeanne said...

Will you find me silly if I say I grieve your trees? I mean, I totally understand, but still I grieve. "My job, like a giant oak, is to plant my feet on solid ground, stand firm in the face of adversity, bend with the wind, soak up the sun, dance in the rain, make room for visitors, wave at the stars, provide shelter and solace, share my beauty, raise my arms to heaven, and bless the earth with my countenance." Sugar, that's a beautiful poem you've penned there, and I feel better having typed it.

Molly said...

I'm glad you are all safe. I'm sorry you have to give up the trees. It is sad when we have to give up things that have always been...