Roots

When Robert Lee Johnson moved into the Emma House over 100 years ago a row of maple twigs stood sentry in the front yard, buffering the house from the dirt road in front.  In the last few years it's been painful to see them burdened with so many broken and dying limbs. To me they have an anthropomorphic presence: they're old fiends in decline.

In April when a troupe of men from the KU Tree Service knocked on the door I knew what was coming...within hours the first (and worst) of the trees was coming down: leaves, limbs, cookies.  Within the next couple of years another tree will have to go, but we're not ready to go there yet.

It took forever to get the debris hauled off.  The Kentucky Utilities men took a load, Carl Buss got a few of the round disks for stepping-stones.  The Hardys next door added a load to their firewood pile, and I tucked a few of the cookies under the front porch.  After that, the replacement tree, and that, too, came in stages. I haven't seen it since April but by this time next week I'll be back. After all the spring rain maybe the twig will be as tall as its siblings.  Ya think??