Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Just When Things are Looking Up.
Something stupid happens and sends me back into a weep at everything state. This time the catalyst was my two year old willow trees. I plucked these little twigs off a freshly cut down old old willow tree that was probably 50 feet tall and raised them from rootless sprigs. I tenderly put them in cups of water. moving them from one room of the house to another to keep them in the sun as long as possible. It seemed impossible to me, but my dad assured me that they would sprout the roots that would grow them into a possible 70 foot tall wonder. Sure enough, after two weeks, my little twigs had roots. I quickly bought two flower pots and some potting soil and moved them from their cups of water to actual soil. Boy oh boy, they flourished! Within two months, they had outgrown their pots, so I dug up two holes in my yard. I kept them fairly close together, with dreams of a bench under the drooping branches where I could sit and read. All that summer, I watched as they quickly grew to be about 6 feet tall. I was so proud that I was able to take these little 6 inch branches and help turn them into actual trees. They made it through that first winter, and slowed in their growth the following summer. That brings us to this winter. We suffered a MASSIVE ice storm that shut down the town for 5 days. Everything was coated in 6 inches of ice, followed by 4 inches of snow. It was too much for my trees to survive. I noticed once it started warming up and everything was turning green that my beloved willows were not. I called a local greenery and they confirmed my fears, my willows hadn't been hearty enough to withstand being under so much ice and cold for so long. I cried at the loss of my trees, knowing that it wasn't just the loss of my willows that was making me so sad. It may seem silly to some to cry over trees, but I grew these from practically nothing. Looking out of my kitchen window and being able to watch them grow almost before my very eyes was so fulfilling. My mom has offered to buy me two new ones, and I will take her up on that offer because I still have a dream of reading beneath their overlapped hanging branches, listening to the wind rustle the leaves. I will do this one day, and I will think of my baby willows, and my dad, and all that I've lost this year.