The other day I arrived home and discovered that my backyard Manitoba maple tree was gone.
I mean GONE, gone: cut down, hacked to pieces, and a giant gaping gap left in the back fence as a result.
And there I was with severe back pain, suddenly doing emergency fence building, engaging in wars of words with my neighbours, and sweating out a lot of negativity about something that had always been a sign of good life growing.
But all things must pass: a branch had fallen into my yard in ’05, and despite being cared for by a tree surgeon since, the tree’s time had come. Someone else made the call before I did, that’s all.
Only the aftermath was mine to deal with.
Not to mention, letting go.
Consider this: if I’m too attached to my backyard Buddha, surely I’ve missed the point.
Did I say backyard Buddha? I meant Manitoba maple tree.