Wednesday, September 7, 2016

So Bummed

If you know me or have read Half-Past Kissin' Time for a while, you know that this is my favorite, favorite tree.

Right at the edge of an ever changing farm field, she has held court for years, 
catching my eye, standing proudly, showing off her quirky shape and healthy glow.

I have trouble articulating why I've loved her so much, 
but I think it's something about her asymmetry, her beauty.
She just has character, and every time I've driven past her over these past 16 years, 
she's made my heart swell a little.
If you've ever been with me in the car as we passed this beauty, you'll remember me pointing her out.
If you and I are Facebook friends, she needs no introduction.

As you probably know, I've often been compelled to pull over and take photos of "my" tree. 

Maybe I just appreciated her predicability, her dependability, 
her regular reminder to stop and admire nature amidst this busy world,
her spirit of openness, of reaching for the sky with arms outstretched, come rain or shine.

I've used the photos for my blog header a number of times, 
and my sister knew I loved the tree when she included them 
in a thoughtful photo book she once gave to me as a gift. 
I can't find the digital originals now, but here are a few snaps....

Last spring, I actually pulled onto the little lane next to my tree and studied her; 
I wanted to know why her trunk was misshapen, and I gained a whole new perspective.

I assumed she'd been struck by lightening back in the day,

and I marveled at her resilience.

I know it's crazy, but I thanked her for being awesome, and I drove home.

Today, when I passed my favorite tree, this is what I saw:

I assume she got struck by lightening, 
as I could see some raw, white flesh from a distance.
Like a rubbernecker at the scene of a car wreck, 
I was afraid of seeing too much, I guess; 
I stopped only for this quick snap and moved on. 
I didn't want to think about my beautiful tree being gone forever, not yet.

I don't know the owner of the property, 
but I hope he/she is as sad as I am; I'll bet it hurt to have to finish the job.

I loved that tree. 

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