A tumultuous week has nearly passed, and I have crested the roughest part of the road. Today I am feeling stronger, like my fuchsia plant gifting the world with fresh tears and exposed hearts to share as an expression of its newfound strength.
This post has been a struggle for me to write. I keep deleting paragraphs of text. How much should I share? Do people really need to know every little detail? Probably not.
So, I'll keep this post related to the one event this week that impressed me the most.
We have had a tree in our yard, that has been a cause of some concern.
This celestial tree pictured here is a #Cherry #tree. It produces two different kinds of flower colors: white blooms on the outer limbs, and pink blooms on the limbs extending from the oldest part of the tree. This is because it grew suckers from the roots. Both the sucker trees and the oldest part of the tree produce fine fruit that is sweet and enjoyable to eat for me and the birds.
Unfortunately, the sucker trees have been growing at such an accelerated pace that they cannot be safely pruned by our own means. The mud it is rooted in isn't providing a solid foundation for the tree, and the weight of the limbs are pulling the high and heavy tree limbs dangerously over our deck, the fence, and our roof. Any day now, it could fall and break, and cause damage to our home.
Despite our desire to keep the tree, it was decided by our family that it should be removed, so we can avoid having to worry about this problem again in the future.
The flowers on this tree are its final opus. Its swan song. It will never be again.
Something is missing here.
We had a team of professionals come to help us take the tree down. My father thought it would be a good idea to chip up the tree, so we can get some more wood chips to cover the yard. What he didn't tell me was that he selected my small 3x3 garden area I had sown seeds into last week to become the dump site. He put a tarp over it, thinking that would be fine, and I became upset with him, but eventually I got over it. There really wasn't any other location on our property accessible for the chipper or truck to drop the chips. Mother also became extremely agitated when she found out my father was planning to manually saw off the limbs of a different tree that had not been discussed; one that she enjoys looking at from her bedroom window, even though it is pressing aggressively into the deck frame. It was quite a bit more drama than I was used to in one day.
Since I was called into my day job for a short task (work is getting sparse for me lately, another growing concern), I returned home early to find the arborist's truck getting ready to dump the load on the intended spot, on top of my new garden area. Fortunately, it wasn't a full-sized pile, and most of it landed beside my actual garden spot and nearer to the side road. I quickly went to work with a shovel and started loading a wagon full of chips, in an effort to free up my garden plot from the suffocating weight of the pile. After finishing about five wagon loads, my karma had finally taken a new turn.
Sister: Hey, would it be okay if my son helps you do some digging with a shovel to load the wagon? If I pay him, he'll do any chores I want.
Creativetruth: Can he rake?
Sister: Oh yeah, he can do that. I'll pay him ten cents a pile, and he can have his neighbor friend help him out.
Within minutes, the mountain which was the sad remains of our beloved tree became the epicenter for children to play and learn how to use tools to work as a team to accomplish something useful.
My sister was encouraging everyone along every step of the way, and letting the children take command with impressive ability. She actively pursues the neighbor boys with kindness, hoping to help her son have an easier time making friends, and to make the neighbors feel more like a part of our family too.
Sister: See what you are doing? When you finish, you'll be able to look at our yard every day when you come home from school, and you'll be able to say, "I helped make that yard look nice," and you can feel proud of your work.
Never had I seen kids this happy to play outside, even on Easter when they are given tons of candy hidden in eggs to find.
This was a race. Money was involved. They could dig, rake, grab sticks, and handle adult sized tools if they wanted, with the parents strangely supporting them. In the world of suburban childhood, this almost never happens. They seized the moment and went all out!
Nephew: How much money have I earned, Mom?
Sister: Hmm, for that much? Oh, I would say fifty cents, so far.
On the front porch my mother, holding a small box of strawberries, arrived to inspect our work. She couldn't believe the flurry of productive activity either.
Mom/Grandma: Hey this looks like the kind of wood they spread out at the parks. I've got some fresh strawberries. I'm going to give it to the neighbor to thank her for helping out.
On the sidewalk my sister was enjoying the scene immensely as I shoveled another wagon load to keep up with the frenzy.
Creativetruth: Let me guess why you are smiling, because you enjoy watching a bunch of young men sweating and doing hard labor, right? Does this make up for all the piles of toys you've had to clean up?
Sister: Not even close.
Neighbor: Maybe about one day's worth.
Creativetruth: Only one day? That much?
The neighbor nodded, knowingly.
My sister brought out the old Tonka brand toys she had been stowing away in the garage for a rainy day like today.
Sister: Fill the truck up with wood, and dump it out to make a new pile. Once you do that, use the steamroller to flatten it out. Did you know our steamroller toy is a collectors item? Tonka doesn't make them anymore. Real steel parts.
The little workers were constantly rustling over the tarp, which disgruntled me at first. I think I asked my nephew once to not walk over it, but then I gave up when I realized my words were not going to have any effect as the three of them rushed around on feet that scampered constantly in random directions. I can always re-seed the garden and start over. Seeds are cheap.
When the pile was half gone from the work we had done, I removed the tarp to see what was left of it.
Hey, that's not bad. I can still work with this.
As we were finishing up, my sister even pitched in with a rake and helped out with some finishing touches to smooth out places the boys lost interest in. I think they were out there for more than an hour all together.
Sister: Good job! Everyone did such a great job, we're going out for treats when we're done.
In the end, they helped me to rake out the wood chips in the entire front yard, and I was able to rescue my garden. We might have one less tree in our yard now, but the tree was a #GivingTree.
Giving Trees are the most magical form of trees. We did not know we had such a tree on our property when we purchased this house a few years ago. Giving Trees go far, far beyond providing lumber and wood resources. They provide a place for children to play. They help kids earn money as they grow up. They teach us the value of time with family. They even find ways to continue to impress us with magical gifts in life many years after they have long since fallen.
Sometimes even the old stump of a Giving Tree become a place to rest and rediscover peace. A place to find ourselves again. A place to gain inspiration for something we never realized we could have, and never knew we needed so much until it was given freely.
Is this the end for the Giving Tree?
Not on my watch.
To be continued...
Thank you for sharing this journey with me. It's been quite a ride this week.
Let me know in the comments below if you've had an electric week, like mine, or felt connected in any way to my words or photos.
