This old dead tree brings up a lot of warm feelings for me remembering back when it was alive and thriving in my over 40 years having lived here. I remember when it stood tall and noble with outstretched branches inviting the birds and squirrels to come while proudly shading the ground below. It was strong bracing the wind and storms for so many years giving life to all around it until it had no more to give.
I don’t know how old it was, possibly 150 years, as old as our state of Colorado this year. Think of what it witnessed in its lifetime – changes in the migration of wildlife, growth of the forest and fires in the balance of nature. Starting out as a baby itself, there was a lot to survive, and yet it did, no doubt, for many years. And there it stood, planted in one spot, doing what it was created to do – proudly and boldly be a tree.
I remember when our girls were young and we first had horses. There that old tree stood watching as we struggled to learn and communicate with these large animals, green in our efforts, and the many memories we made doing that. I could almost feel an approving energy and a smile happy to be a part of community and our home.
It watched over the years as our girls grew and all the coming and going of teenage life; and, then the grandkids, when they came with their rough play, dueling lightsabers, chasing each other around the yard playing hide-and-go-seek with the horses and dogs. Those were happy memories for us, and that old tree found its happy place too over the years, as we enjoyed it being there and the loving energy it gave off.
It was hard to see life fade in that old tree and how it still stood tall even after life ran its course and it was gone. There’s an empty space there, now, where it once stood but as you walk close you can still feel an energy of love and joy. If trees could communicate like us, I think that old tree would laugh and laugh at all the play, challenges, life and love that bounced around all over this backyard.
I love the thought of its life that once was and its energy that still remains and, with that, as long as we have our memories nothing is ever really gone – only the form has changed.
Pat from the ‘ol kitchen table
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This is the first of a new project my husband, Jim Ruppel, and I are collaborating on where, with his photography, he will pick a photo and send it to me to put a story to it. So, here goes. Hope you enjoy it and let me know your thoughts and suggestions, if you like. Thank you.
