WEEPING LIKE A WILLOW

Hello. My name is Linda…and I’m a tree hugger.

They (whoever ‘they’ are) say that in order to recover, you must first admit you have a problem.

My problem is: I want to cry every time I hear the buzz of a chain saw ripping into an innocent tree.

I know. I know…it is not safe to ignore trees who may appear lovely from the exterior, but whose interior may be full of rot, and therefore a danger, if Mother Nature decides to kick up a storm.

But, surely there is a gentler way to bid farewell to a natural wonder which has given years of shade from a sweltering sun, whose roots gripped the earth and held erosion at bay, and whose branches were home to a variety of birds. If squirrels could speak (our language), I’m sure they would beg that their playground not be destroyed in such a violent way.

And yet, I hear the grinding, buzzing, ripping taking place down the street, and I find myself once again, tearing up over the tearing down.

All at once, I am reminded of one of the advantages of living in a town designated as:

“Tree City USA”

. . . a new sapling will be put in its place very soon.

To everything there is a season.

True for trees.

True for humanity.

Now, go hug a tree while you can.

 

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