I always know the anniversary of when we moved into our home based on the plum trees. When we moved in the three trees were in their full glory with white blossoms on every branch. My favorite of the three trees is right in front of the house. From the living room window you can watch birds flit between the tree and the bird feeders we hung on the house. Laying on the couch one can look at the window filled with white blooms. In the summer we throw down blankets and picnic or read or do crafts under the dappled shade of that tree.
Yesterday fierce winds blew through town and uprooted our favorite plum tree.
Funky B was the only one to witness the fall. One gust pulled the roots up, a second toppled the tree over right towards our house. Thankfully nothing more than a pea frame and a few tulips bulbs were damaged. Neighbors immediately came to help chop up the tree and pile its parts along the curb. One minute standing, the next laying down.
Two little girls were distraught. They have both wanted to sit by the tree, saying their thanks and mourning the loss. MonkE posted her drawing on the front door. We wrote notes to the tree on flying wish paper and lit them under the night sky. It's possible that Funky B cried herself to sleep.
We talk to them about how all the helpers who showed up. And about how the tree is making space for something new to grow there, something we can nurture and tend. Meanwhile I say "thank you thank you thank you" that this is their greatest loss thus far.