Ten days ago the 20' plum tree in front of my house did a slow motion dive onto a car and needed to be cut down. This Standing Person (indigenous people call trees Standing People) was a guardian to the house and provided a great home for chattering and preening finches, sparrows, hummingbirds. It also offered partial screening for my bay windowed studio room. Now the house feels a bit naked and exposed to the street.
Initially I was sad, but have accepted that this poor tree was living on borrowed time. It had never been pruned properly, hadn't bloomed well this year, and apparently had serious root problems. I wonder what in my life has not been well-grounded or has been too top heavy to flourish. What wants to be uprooted to make more space in my life?
And as we take our time to replace it with another tree, I'm getting used to more light, more space, and our house being more visible. Perhaps the plum tree bowed out so we can have a bigger perspective and connect our inner worlds and the outer one.
I'm thinking of all this while my 15 year old cat's kidney problems are being diagnosed and my father falls further into Alzheimer's and physical decline. Mostly I am holding a space of curiosity about what new thing comes on the heels of loss. As Winter gives way to Spring, new life unfolds.
How have you experienced loss and its unexpected gifts? Would love to hear. RIP, plum tree. Thanks for everything!
