I frequently tramped eight or ten miles through the deepest snow to keep an appointment with a beech-tree, or a yellow birch, or an old acquaintance among the pines. ~Henry David Thoreau
Only Thoreau and Emerson make me feel like I’m not completely nuts. I love a tree.
Sometimes I just stare at this tree. I doubt my video will capture what I feel when I look at it. (I can’t believe I’ve never taken pictures of it before today.)
All I can tell you is when the white-ish-pink buds open and cover the branches every Spring, my heart lifts. I just feel lighter and happier just seeing it.
The thing is, this is my neighbor’s tree. Its trunk is right on the other side of my fence. But the branches used to swing down into my backyard. I know this sounds really weird now, but I liked to touch those branches and look up and listen to all the birds and squirrels and life going on in the big sheltering canopy.
Sadly, the tree’s branches were weighing down on the fence last year. (Maybe I was beckoning it to come over.) Anyway, last year we had tree surgeons come in and trim all our trees. (We were worried about branches hanging over our roof.)
I gasped when I saw how far back they cut the branches back from MY TREE. It pains me now to see it and I miss those branches dipping over. I know it’s crazy, but I worry we hurt this tree. Hurt it’s feelings? Maybe just mine.
Still, I covet the neighbor’s tree even when its flowers drop all the petals, and then grows big blueberry things that drop like bombs and stain my cement. (I think it’s a Weeping Cherry of some sort. I’ve tried to look it up. Anyone know?)
I still love the tree. In winter, I look at its bare branches, just mentally checking on it. (You okay out there tree?)
I would tell my neighbor about how I feel, but I’ve never met this neighbor. I thought surely one day we would both be out there admiring the tree. I’ve knocked on the door and never gotten an answer. I’m not sure what I would have said. “Hi, I love your tree?” “Hello, could I have your tree?”
I wish I could just move the fence a little bit and adopt the tree. Clearly, I am obsessed and have imagined that the tree and I have some secret special connection.
Listen, I’m not what you would call a “tree hugger” type, (apologies to all tree lovers out there.) I generally don’t go around admiring trees, (though maybe I should.) It’s just this tree. Only this tree.
I know I’ve gone on and on here. (I’m much chattier when I get to blog in the morning, which is a rare treat.)
Now you know. It’s a first. I’ve confessed. I have a thing for a tree and I hope, by some miracle, branches grow back over my fence again.