I looked out the kitchen windows to our woods below when we got home from a long weekend away. Do you see anything wrong with this picture?
The redbud tree is down. Instead of floating on the air like a lacy umbrella, the lavender-blossom laden branches spread across the grass like an antebellum skirt.
Like the rock in the middle of the road, it happened while I wasn’t looking. What forces of nature were working while I was gone?
Here is the picture I took on Thursday and posted on Friday before we left. Now that I look again, I can see that the tree is leaning. So maybe it was falling as I was looking, but I just didn’t notice. I didn’t see it.
I still have redbud trees in these woods behind our house.
They make their presence known in early spring.
But this little lady is down. She’s stood her last.
The roots just dissolved or decayed away, under this stone patio. Maybe it was starved for water and nutrients. Or maybe it was just old.
The stone patio was also built around this cottonwood tree that still stands strong.
This is a mirror shot of my usual one where I look out the kitchen windows on the right, or stand at the right-most corner of the deck and shoot down the hill to the woods. From this perspective, the St. Francis garden is at the top of the hill to the right, nestled between the steps to the deck and the woods. If you enlarge the photo by clicking on it, you can just barely make out one of the little birdhouses there. The little white speck at the top of the hill to the left of the first support post is Arthur. His electric fence keeps him close to the house.
While I was mourning the loss of this beautiful tree, the birds were singing,
and the running creek was playing its musical notes.
Nearby a limbless, dead tree still stands,
a banquet for the woodpeckers.
But the redbud tree is down.
It happened while I wasn’t looking.