There is this tree.
It sits in a corner of my front yard, close to the sidewalk. And these days, it’s showing its age. Bark is peeling away from the trunk making it look naked and exposed. Some branches have died making it look strangely asymmetrical.
Because it is January, and it bears not a single leaf, all its imperfections are exposed. Neighbors strolling by must surely wonder why I have not converted it into a pile of cherry wood.
That was the advice I got from tree trimmers a couple of seasons ago. Instead I chose to have it shaped a bit. “Let’s give it one more season,” I said.
And so it sits, hanging on for dear life. When spring comes, I know hundreds of little sprigs of cherry tree will sprout in the grass surrounding it, the tree’s way of reproducing itself.
I am content to watch this tree and to appreciate its determination to stay alive and to make sure that there will be cherry trees to take its place.
Spring will be here soon.