This old Tree of Mine

When I bought this house, a house in unfamiliar terrain that gave me the gift of allergies to anything that grows, walks or moves, I bought this house for the tree in the front yard.

Large and majestic, a weeping willow I was told, this tree soon became my nemesis as every year for 4 years it dropped another mutant bug in multitudes; year one, 4 inch earwigs, year 2, quarter sized ticks, year 3, some unidentifiable black and red winged thing that migrates through Utah on occasion, and year 4 it was spiders the size of elephants.

Every year I would say “I’m cutting that bastard down next year” and every year I didn’t and now I know why, you see in Year 5 my tree brought me birds, birds of every shape and size every falcon, eagle, pigeon, dove, sparrow and chickadee, and I said “I’ll never cut this wonderful creature down.”

It has been 12 years since I came to peace with the tree I now call “Patience”, it is so old that part of it is dead and decaying, while the other part thrives, and in the moonlight or during a lightening storm she looks like the ghost trees I fell in love with on my visit to Louisiana, trees so old and dripping with spanish moss that you can do nothing but stare in awe at their beauty and their strenth.

I have a friend that does tree trimming and he volunteered to do it for free, but i kept putting him off, and I didn’t know why until that one lightening storm showed me the tree in all of her majesty.
I called my friend to cancel the appointment and he asked why I changed my mind and my reply was simple,
“her and I walk the same path, one foot in life and one foot in death, and we are both the more beautiful for it, but more importantly, she gave me wings and song.”


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