I said goodbye to a heritage tree today. Seventy-to eighty-year-old willow oaks are like old friends — you can't make new ones. The original owners of this house planted this tree, and others, as saplings soon after the house was built. I believe they trudged out into the woods, dug up saplings, and brought them back to the property. When I first passed by this house, it was the trees that caught my eye. They were a big reason I decided to tour the house, and eventually buy it.

I was struck by a contrast as I watched the arborists do their work: dozens of bees resting on the flowers of my Mexican sunflower and Mexican petunia plants — a little reminder that life goes on. One of the things I've learned working in elder care is that life is impersonal. That's a very Buddhist perspective. Of course life feels personal to us, but in the grand scheme of things, it's a blip — gone in the blink of an eye. What we do with that spark is what matters.

My heart breaks over losing this tree. It feels like it did when I had my German Shepherd put down. But like with a family pet, the heart eventually heals, and you come to understand it was the right thing to do. Perhaps I'll plant a pollinator garden in the old oak's place. Maybe that's what the bumblebees were trying to tell me today.

In gratitude 🙏