A Missing Link

“Where are these tears coming from? Good grief, it was just a tree.” So said Me to Myself and I as I noted the void in a yard that used to be mine, a void with a few chunks of remaining trunk as evidence of the natural monument that used to grace that space.

 But it wasn’t ‘just a tree’ you see. It was a tree with wonderful memories tagged to it, a tree that I made a point to drive by to catch a glimpse of, to check on its status and color. With all its ties, it was sorta like family, one of two transplants handled with care years ago.

The maples made their journey to that spot from origins in my parents’ yard in the country, dug up carefully to keep as many of the tiny roots as intact as possible, then set in a bucket to take the short jaunt to town. Maples in Doniphan are revered in autumn when they add awesome color to their portfolios of magnificent shade, natural beauty and playground to nature’s critters. I am not the only one who drives around, camera in hand, to see their contribution to the scenic landscapes Mother Nature paints with her gorgeous palette. One of the tiny saplings was removed from that yard several homeowners ago. It never seemed to thrive in its city home.

One of them did, however. I was struck by the circumference of the trunk chunks. I had not realized it had grown so large. When did that happen? Seems only a handful of years ago my son and I walked around trying to decide the best places to put each twig, with an eye ever upward on the location of the electric lines. We picked the ‘perfect’ spots and babied both with watering and protection from mowers and weed-eaters. We moved from that residence a long time ago, so those trees provided slideshows of the seasons for others; I still considered them ‘our’ trees, even the ones evident only in photos or memories.

On my random tours to look at trees, I would notice this one often, my gaze always going upward to see its height and to see those electric lines and convince myself it was safe from those orange and yellow beasts that go around maiming and removing ‘troublesome’ trees in the line of duty. They have jobs to do, I get that. I am not a tree-hugger, but I could be.

This was written for my Close to Home column in the May 29, 2019 issue of my hometown weekly, the Prospect-News.

About Teresa Pearson Lee

Retired after 33 years of teaching English and French (one year in private school in Memphis, TN and the rest in public school in Doniphan, MO. Enjoying new adventures - all those things I put off for lack of time, energy, now I can try them! Pottery, writing, traveling, camping, kayaking, dancing, listening to some of the best live music ever, and making lively new friendships. All christened with an appreciation for great red wine! Created and operated KC's on the Current, then sold it and managed it for new owners. You might still find me at the reservation desk when spring rolls around. Born and raised in St. Louis, MO near The Hill. Though a transplant to Southeast Missouri, still a city gal at the core with a deep love of the natural resources in these Ozark foothills. Currently I am a content coordinator for Poplar Bluff Living Magazine and a columnist/stringer for the local weekly The Prospect News. My rescue Siamese helps with most of the proofreading; he has a great ear. I relish the solitude easily had in the Mark Twain Forest but thoroughly enjoy lively outings for music, wine, conversation close to home or in my beloved hometown. Technology is my greatest challenge but so worth the shared connections. There may be a need for solitude but there is little loneliness. The material in this blog written by Teresa Lee is her property and cannot be used without express written consent to do so.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s