This morning I came home from shopping and found the tree man at work. It was my beautiful maple that had been damaged in the late fall snow storm. Branches had been broken off, and some were still hanging dangerously overhead. I had suspected it would have to go but prayed it would not. Immediately this reminded me of my previous post, “Letting Go and Being All You Can Be,” about fallen trees leaving spaces, after they had been all they could be. I admit to having a “thing” for trees, and having lived in a forested region nearly all my life, it is not surprising. So I go on about the trees around me, finding metaphors and beauty in all of them.
Here is this beauty in its full autumn glory several years ago. We in New England, and admittedly in other regions as well, love our autumn foliage. Families drive from afar to see the gold and crimson maples, aspens, and oaks. But to have one in one’s own back yard is a special treat. I took numerous photos over the last couple of years in different seasons. Today I took the last one I will ever take of this dear old man. I regret that I will no longer be able to sit under its protective branches during the hot summers, and gaze at its gorgeous orange in autumn, and, yes, even at its snow laden best in the deep February winter. But nature has a way of taking care of its trees, and when it is time to go, I say goodbye. I still have its pictures. The first one below is after the storm that damaged the tree last November. The second is, well, you can tell what that is – this afternoon’s snapshot.
What have you had to say goodbye to?