Shortly after we first took stewardship of this property
a mighty wind took out the top of this maple tree.
A couple of well meaning cousins climbed up
and cleaned it out and she went on about the business of shading us.
When Sid came for a visit he took one look
and said that’s an example of “…”
some German word which apparently meant
a tree poorly trimmed,
mutated by the looks on Sid’s face.
Well that moaning maple has spent her dotage
harboring hundreds of nesting and feeding animals
from the tiniest tit mouse
to the grand piliated gals.
Once Maggie came on the scene
it became a refuge for the squirrels whom she chased up to that jagged leader’s tippy top
only to sit watching below as they lined up in Monty Python manner like the french
to throw insults and taunts at her and her elderberry smelling patriarch.
In every season
and in every light
the stalwart maiden
has stood watch.
The easel window in my old studio
had a glimpse of this tree and the barn just beyond.
Designed around that tree
my new studio view
is just as you see it here.
Every morning so far,
when the sun clears the woods out back
it lights up her trunk like a rock show.
So it was fitting
a couple day ago
after another of those mighty winds blew through the holler
that Maggie called me over on our walk
to show me that the lowest branch
which had taken hours and hours of time
for my brushes to render
had fallen to the ground.
It’s hard to see in this picture because the day was drawing nigh…
but My Mulcher promises to make quick work
of shredding this pile
as the grand old dame
continues her long walk home.