In this year of oh so many goodbyes, a deeply sad year by any measure, the three of us walked around our town center, gazing up into the canopy of bare-and-just-leafing out branches. We paused at each tree, stroked the bark, wondered aloud about how old this one might be, what it had witnessed in our collective history – what it had endured, and survived. We told stories — “one day, I sat just here, and watched two birds in that tree fall in love.” We marveled at the sculptural shapes of the branches, stark in their darkness against the pale blue sky. “These three look like old friends to one another, don’t they?” I said, their leaning branches reaching out, forming a canopy far above the sidewalk. We watched chickadees alight on a bird feeder, almost tame — almost within reach.
We thanked the trees for providing habitat for small animals. We pondered the extraordinary symbiosis we have with trees — as they breathe, so do we. We are literally breathed into life by trees. We breathe in what the trees breathe out, and the trees breathe in what we breathe out. We marveled at the tree’s cooling effects — the shade they offer, the transpiration of moisture into the air, and remembered a rushed and steamy day; a moment just too hot to go on … and, finding a bench, right here, under this tree, to sit, and let our souls catch up with us.
Realizing what we have taken for granted, what we have failed to see, we wrote messages to the trees, thanking them for what they have given to us. We tied our notes to the signs strung around their trunks by the town, saying “This tree is slated for removal as part of Bridge Street Improvements.” The signs invite our input on the species of tree that will replace it.
There will be straighter, smoother sidewalks. And better, safer water delivery. And new, young, eager-to-grow, appropriately and popularly selected trees. But there is no replacing the gentle giants that stand before us here, now. Gratitude is linked to love, and love. And when what we love is lost, we pause to say goodbye.
Dear tree, such a year it has been. …
Alison Cornish lives in Shelburne Falls.