Of all the trees on our property, this one holds my attention. And affection. Its brilliant colors in autumn stir the poet in me. But that's not where its value lies for our family.
This tree is the daughter of a massive maple that once graced a different part of the yard. The day a storm toppled it, we mourned, even the youngest child. It had served as sentry, fort, hiding place, shade, shelter, goal post, and bird habitat for possibly a hundred years or more.
The parent tree died twenty-five years ago.
