Random Bits of Gratitude 012013

Downtown Raleighwood
January 2013

Three Bits o' Gratitude

1. Willow
During the ice and windstorm last week our beloved Willow tree finally came down. We bought Willow and planted her during the early days of my unemployment back in '05. It was a specific gift request Bonn made for Mother's Day. She wanted a willow tree outside her bathroom window that she could look out upon and watch grow.

Willow surprised us by quickly growing tall and strong. It seemed like it was only a few years after I planted her that she was taller than the roofline. I've never known a willow tree before and was honored to share our yard with such a majestic, giving tree.

2. Willow's Fall
Two years ago Bonn told me she was certain Willow had died. I refused to believe it. Over the next six months I couldn't hold out hope any longer. We don't know what killed her, but she was beyond hope.

We talked about cutting her down, but I just couldn't bring myself to do so. This past week, during a heavy ice and wind storm, Willow fell on her own. To our lasting gratitude, she fell exactly as we had needed her to fall -- in a space away from the house, steps and porch and away from the shed next to the barn. She could have easily fell onto the shed, crushing it and causing an even bigger problem for us. Instead, she spared the shed and fell in a fairly narrow empty space in the yard.

3. Improvisation
Bonn asked me to cut Willow down enough to clear a path to the shed and barn. Four pulls on my chainsaw not only didn't get it any closer to starting, but it also threw the h3ll outta my back. In a fine "do as I say, not as I do" act, I pulled out my circular saw and used it -- along with a standard saw -- to cut through some of Willow's larger branches to clear a path.

One of the hardest parts of being an adult is not doing yard work or planting the garden/trees that you want to have grow around you. It's dealing with the loss and clean up of something that you truly thought you would grow old with and would outlast you. I don't feel I have much of a legacy to leave, but I had thought Willow would be here long after us, reminding the yard and the mud about the people who tried to cultivate them.

I'm sad I can't find any pictures of Willow. I should never assume something is always going to be around me.