The leaf buds are beginning to swell. On my walk, I passed my favorite trees. Soon they will be covered with pale pink blossoms. Last year the storm twisted one of the trees off, almost to the ground. The rest sustained damage, still they are preparing to share their blossoms. Their tenacity lifts my spirits on evenings when I am tired and just want to get home. I feel sadness on some days when I looked at the loss of that one tree. I have watched them grow for years, there are in many ways familiar friends of mine. Last spring I was struggling with health issues and wasn’t able to go for walks. I missed these trees. I am thankful every time I pass them, every time I look at the sky through their branches. They were trimmed back, and now their limbs are too high for me to touch as I pass under them, but sometimes I do place my hand on their trunks, and I am very aware that they are living beings. I’ve always been obsessed with trees. When I was young, I lived out in the country and didn’t have anyone to play with, if I was lonely, I don’t remember. There is an old picture of me with my head peering between two trees. The trees are just far apart enough for me to fit my little two year old body between them. Every time I come across this photo, I feel like maybe on that long ago day, the trees hugged me and I hugged them back. Fanciful, perhaps, still I am filled with gratitude for trees and the way they have comforted me, then and now.

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