Dear Readers: It never fails to surprise me how my Creator uses what he has created to inspire, speak to and encourage me. As the dialogue continues between me and the tree I have been watching since the Summer of 2017, you may find yourself wondering some of the same things we wonder about. If you haven’t read my recent post entitled, “Dear Tiny Growing-our-of-the rock Tree, you may want to click HERE first. (You can read the beginning of the series starting HERE:)
Dear Carol, (aka “Person-who-sits-under-the-Weeping Willow Tree”)
I still don’t know much about you, except life has been hard for you. I hope things are getting better. Sometimes things do . . . sometimes you must figure out a new way of being. I hope it’s not the latter. The truth is when things have been hard, even if they get “better” you still have to find a new way of being, don’t you? Life can get complicated for you humans.
You came over here quite a bit during the winter, still making remarks about my perseverance. You use that word a lot with me. Like I have said before, there’s only so much over which I have control. I can’t do anything about the bitter cold winter winds here at the lake and the splashing, icy water that washes up over me, sometimes leaving me encrusted in a layer of ice.
I have noticed you writing again now that it’s warmer, but you sit at one of the picnic tables instead of over here under the Weeping Willow tree. What’s up with that?
Your Willow tree is looking better this summer since they pruned out the old dead wood last year. It was noisy over here that day. So much for peace and quiet.
Pruning seems to be a necessary part of life. I hate the process, but it does seem important to the overall growth and health of trees and plants. I’m glad the dead wood is gone. I worried about the people who sat under her on windy days, liked the day you sat there a long time and then it must have dawned on you it wasn’t safe. I’ve seen too many willow tree limbs go flying through the air.
Now that I stop and think about it, maybe the reason you’re not over here writing is because you can’t stand the creepy, slimy-yellow-green algae overtaking the water along the shoreline either. You have the option of keeping your distance or staying away completely. Not me.
I can’t figure out why they call it “Blue-green algae. At least that is what I keep hearing. Really doesn’t matter what they call it, it’s dreadful-looking stuff.
I first noticed the algae in April. It didn’t take long.
Recently I overheard some of you talking about it. (I’ll bet you didn’t know I was listening.) Remember the fisherman who said he was here when they tested the lake a few weeks ago and pronounced it healthy? All I can say, based on what we see happening over here right now, it could go like it did several years ago. Do you remember “they” (whoever “they” is) insisted the lake was healthy then too.
They tried treating it “naturally” by raking it out, piling it up along the lake and hauling it off somewhere. They had machines that drove into the lake and rooted it out. They put in aerators. Finally, they had to close the lake, and treat it with chemicals. It’s a delicate act to use the right amount as they consider the fish in the water and the people who enjoy it from above.
That was the year the lake had a muskrat problem too. I had to laugh when one of them poked his ugly head out of a hole right beside your chair. You freaked out. I know, I know . . . “All creatures great and small, the Lord God made them all,” but there are some creepy-looking things the Lord God made. A wet muskrat poking his head out of a hole in the ground is one of them. They rid the lake of the muskrats that summer, along with treating the algae.
It took someone bigger than you or me to fix it. We can’t fix it now either. It seems like a metaphor for life, don’t you think? Waiting. Standing strong. Doing only what you can do. It’s my only option.
I’ve noticed you humans think you must DO something, FIX something. I hear a lot of conversations here – people upset and trying to figure out how they can fix someone else – an interfering mother-in-law (I’m sure that’s not you), a friend on drugs, someone who is drinking too much, mostly relational issues. From what I see and hear, it never seems to work unless the person wants help and is asking for it. Even then, it can’t always be fixed.
I’m sure you’ll have some thoughts on this too. I’ll be looking forward to hearing from you. And we’ll see how the lake turns out this summer.
Oh, you still haven’t answered me – Where did you get your love of Weeping Willows? Why do they mean so much to you? I’m sure there is a story there somewhere. And another thing. Why do you seem to think it is your tree? I hear others say the same thing.
Hopefully things will look better around here in the coming weeks.
Until next time,
Dearest Reader: Thoughts? I’d be interested in hearing them and maybe others would be too. Drop your thoughts below. Oh, and if you like what you read here, please share.
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3 Replies to “Dear Carol (aka Person-who-sits-under-the-Weeping-Willow-Tree)”
My favorite line: Why do you seem to think it is your tree? I hear others say the same thing.
stay tuned 🙂