Broken Trees

Last week, a premature snowstorm maimed trees and downed power lines all along Northern Colorado’s Front Range. Over the weekend, another heavy snow maimed trees and downed power lines from Virginia to Maine.


Why is there no eulogy for the broken trees?


Nine years ago when I was looking for a home to buy, I stopped in front of the house with the magnificent maple in the front yard. Now my study looks out into that maple in all its phases – deep mahogany leaves in early spring, jade green in summer, golden in autumn, and skeletal lace in winter (sometimes accessorized with snow).


Last week, I opened my front door to look at a massive four-foot high briar patch spreading from my porch to the street. It took four people three days to clear the debris and trim the mangled branches.


My maple still stands, covered with an icing of new snow – great hunks of it gone forever.


Why is there no eulogy for my broken tree?


It’s been just over two weeks since my sister-in-law died. There will be eulogies for her during a Nov. 19 memorial service. Jayne helped me find my house, as attracted as I was by my magnificent maple. She loved it too.


It is nice to imagine that, in some other sphere of being, she is saying a eulogy for my broken tree.


Thank you, Jayne.