Over the years, I’ve blogged about life in Michigan, especially life around our home. I’ve featured squirrels and birdhouses and willows. I’ve shown flowers and the river and the change of seasons. And I so wanted to have a keepsake photograph of the ironwood tree that came down last night in the middle of a frightening rainstorm.
But my new computer and my old photo program won’t talk to each other, so I’m left with words to describe how we feel.
The ironwood tree outside our bedroom window was the first thing of beauty we saw on wakening and the last thing we saw before closing our eyes at night, thanks to some beautiful lighting we installed three sweet summers ago. The tree held court for birds of all hues, especially since Earl kept a feeder filled on a daily basis. It also was home to a special kind of bell that would ring in the wind. We’ll never hear it ring again.
We’ve spent the day being melancholy about this. There are fifty trees on our property; and, of all of them, the two ironwoods we had were our greatest pride. Now there’s only one. And we’re as bereft as we would be if a human member of our family had perished.
So I urge you: if you appreciate some special thing of beauty, do so wholeheartedly. Revel in it. Take photographs, even if your computer doesn’t like it. Because you never know what can happen.
We are in mourning tonight.
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