|Seeds hide orchards.|
And then a year goes by.
This Mother's Day was much different. I planted a tree. It was not intended to be symbolic. It had nothing to do with my Mom or my wife or with anything really. Our Mayday was dying. I knew I had to remove it but, maybe we could save it somehow? For the past ten years, that tree would typically bud close to my daughter's birthday in April and flower by my son's birthday in May. That tree meant something to me. And everything in life is supposed to mean something, isn't it?
But my son and I cut it down, chopped out the roots with an axe. It was all so violent. And I realize now, necessary.
Just like last year. Necessary.