The white birch in the back yard needed to stay. It weeps and lists slightly to the left, but it also frames every sunset, and so it needed to stay while almost every other tree in the yard ended up in the chipper. My husband has grand plans for this piece of property, but before we could begin the project, the old had to make way for the new. I wake up to bird chatter every morning, and these feathered friends sing me through the day. I worried we would not only remove the trees, but the birdsong would be lost too.
When I feel sad about the state of our back yard, post-tree massacre, I take out the folded sheet of paper with the new plans drawn in vibrant color. It helps to look ahead, to see where the state of this current mess is going. It’s going to get a lot uglier. There will be strange men digging holes and ripping out everything that lies in their way. There will be unbearable weather conditions, and mix-ups, and unfortunate mistakes. It’s going to cost us something to see this dream become a reality, and I don’t just mean in money. It cost us the trees and probably some pieces of my sanity and, for a short time, it cost us some of the morning chatter.
This morning, when I looked out on my lone birch, the broken and weeping branches held a flock of birds. Swooping in and out, singing away the day, waiting for the framing of the evening sun. Most of the trees are gone, but as is the way of life, when our vibrant and grand plans collide with our current ones, some of the old must bend and make way for the new.
