One of the things I love about where I live is the way that the seasons bring certain color combinations into my life. In the fall, I drive by a park where the dark red-brown of changing oak leaves mingles with dark green pines and a dusky plum of other tree trunks. In winter, there's a boulevard with crab apple trees planted on the median. The view of bright red crab apples, dark brown trunks, and white snow pleases me tremendously. And in the spring we get a delightful array of flowering trees juxtaposed against the budding leaves of trees with more subtle blooms.
When we built our porch, I found I noticed certain views from our yard for the first time. One of these was a pink flowering tree that bloomed just in front of a dark red maple, both surrounded by new chartreuse greens. I never got a picture of this view, though I often thought I should try. I tend to think it would be one of those views that never looks as interesting in a photograph as in reality. Mostly, I enjoyed sitting on the porch, taking in these splashes of color and feeling so blessed and wealthy to have this view for the taking.
This spring, I was looking out in that same direction and noticed that the pink flowering tree was blooming, yet, something seemed different. Then I realized that the dark red maple behind is gone. Obviously, neighbors and city workers have control over most of the trees I see from my porch, so changes are bound to happen. But still, it's a sad little loss.
4 comments:
Since our winter started just as the trees were beginning to bloom this year, our apple never blossomed. It's amazing how this little loss of color can make a difference. So tiny, but it's there.
Yes, I know what you mean. And there are certain little short-lived sparks and splashes of color each spring that I forgot from year to year, but alwaus welcome when I see them.
That's always a bummer. We've lost a couple in the neighborhood ourselves this last year (the stumps are fascinating though).
One day third grade I came home from school and found that the city had come and cut down the elm tree in front of our house. I remember sitting on the fresh stump and sobbing and sobbing for all the neighbors to see. Oh, it makes me sad again. It's maybe a week too late in Madison, but it's amazing how the colors of spring mimic the colors of the fall. I love that.
I think I'm ready for knitting camp.
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