THE COMING AND GOING OF TREES

The Coming and Going of Trees

There’s a row of poplar trees, just over the stone fence beside the vegetable garden which grows and re-grows every year. We cut dozens of one inch saplings every year to keep them from shading the garden. This generates about as much emotion, ( mostly grumpiness) as mowing an over-grown lawn. Then, there are the sad tree losses, like our old apple tree that split in half from a snow-load or the one that disappeared one afternoon , along with several cedars and pines, in the process of creating a new septic bed. We’ll miss the protection from the west winds and for the tart fruit provided free of charge and labour every fall.

The other kind are the giants, like the handsome maple outside the kitchen window. We watched it start to die, in patchy limbs, over the time we’ve been here. Each day as I walk past it now, aware of the decision made, I recall the cooling shade it cast over the kitchen or the bird feeders it hosted.  It is time to bring an end to its reign over the front yard.
The coming and going of these silent friends and neighbours is part of the landscape drama that includes grasses, annual flowers and mushrooms.  It’s a never-ending one, punctuated by the loss of such landmark trees, faithful old-timers who seem, at times, to be permanent features, like the stones and rivers. Their passing serves to remind us how precious it all is.

om namu amida butsu,
Innen, doshu 

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