Six and Counting

Six years.  You’d think it would be all over after six years.  You’d think you could celebrate the first day of spring instead of the sixth death day.  You’d think you could visit with a neighbor without falling apart.  You’d think you could visit with a close friend without wanting to drop into a hole because of your idiotic behavior.  You’d think all that, would you not?

                     The sun shone so bright

                      it seemed like a grand new day

                      of a grand new spring.

Maybe next year.


Who’s Crying Now?

So the power company came by yesterday to prune or remove trees that have grown up into the power lines.  I live in one of those areas in which the lines are not underground (due to shale), so they do this every five years or so.  As it happens, when I moved to this area (dry relatively high plains) from a beautifully forested area, I brought with me about twenty or thirty little one-inch tall cedar tree starts that had been growing around my former home.  They lived quietly in pots on my apartment deck until I bought a house and transplanted the little guys into the ground.  Then, when we moved to a larger house a couple of years later, I unplanted and then replanted my cedars.  I now live among a cedar forest–or what is left of it.

Over time, we realized that these cedars like it here and were growing steadily taller and wider.  So, over time, we had to remove about every other tree to allow the rest to thrive.  What remains is still a city cedar forest, sort of.  I still can count (up until yesterday) fifteen trees standing tall.  Today, I can count twelve and a half trees.  The problem is that we did not expect these trees to do so well and therefore planted a line of them under the power lines.  So every five years or so, the power company comes and asks me if there are a couple of trees I could live without, and when I say no, they knock the trees down by a significant amount of height and then come back and do it again five years later.  This time, I allowed them to take out two trees that were crowding their neighbors.  But then, the power people cut the top half off of another.

Does anyone else cry when trees are killed?


So last night, I watched the movie  “The House of the Spirits” (based on Isabelle Allende’s book).  And today, a ghost spoke to me.  Perhaps there is a connection?

I was napping a bit this afternoon, and I woke to a very familiar voice telling me that I am sleeping too much.  I replied that it is just because I am so tired.  As I awoke, I felt joy, because I had thought I had forgotten that voice, would never hear it again, yet there it was admonishing me (with a smile that I could also hear) for wasting my day in sleep.  Thank you, ghost, for giving me back that wonderful voice!

When next I need  it, I shall watch that movie again.


One by one they go,

taken by gentle winds to

become the night’s stars.


One by one they go,

taking pieces of my heart

til nothing is left.


One by one they go,

leaving behind empty spaces

for me to refill.


One by one they go,

but the tears they leave behind

nurture new gardens.