You might be thinking this blog is about the book
pictured here. No, but that title sums up my topic.
I'm paying homage to an ancient mulberry tree that
finally succumbed to the elements and fell last week.
This mulberry tree was on the north side of our property,
adjacent to three equally old pear trees which still persevere.
The tree has been dead for a couple of years, and a couple
of its main trunks had already fallen. This was the end.
From this now-rotten stump, three massive trunks
had lived around 100 years, the same age as the
pear trees.
Beautiful moss has covered the greater portion of
these trunks. As the remnants slowly rot, they will
contribute their remains to enrich the soil from which
the tree sprang a century ago.
Some of the branches sprawled across the dirt driveway
that bordered our property and led to Margaret Frye and
Ike and Katie Cleaver's homesteads. Wonderful friends
Tim Cleaver and Ann Cleaver Bruce grew up here.
The dying tree had become a perfect home for not
only moss, but Resurrection Fern, which I've blogged
about before.
I love lush, soft moss, but it's often prevalent on
dying trees.
The fall of this tree drew my attention to a small
dogwood tree, which now may have the opportunity
to thrive and reach its potential
Here's a closeup of the Resurrection Fern, whose
most distinctive trait is that it shrivels in dry weather
but repeatedly springs to new life in rainy weather.
It's truly both a treasure and a parable in itself.
Meanwhile, this neighboring pear tree has a tunnel
going clear through. This tree and its two sister trees
are still bearing pears after 100 years, but they must
be asking when their time will come.
Every tree has a story, and I only know part of the
story of these ancient ones. They also have a crucial
purpose in the web of life, and they have served their
purpose well. I'm most thankful for the new trees that
arise to take the place of the fallen. I've even been
known to hug a few trees from time to time.
