In this post I continue my dialogue with a tree I have been watching since the summer of 2017. Â Â If you haven’t read my recent post entitled, “Dear Tiny Growing-our-of-the rock Tree, you’ll want to click HERE first.Â
Dear person who sits under the Weeping Willow Tree,
So why are you surprised I am answering you? Youâ€™re the one who started this conversation by talking to me first. I was listening. I responded a few months later, but never got it sent. Thanks for the picture of what I look like from your perspective this summer. As to this â€œridiculousâ€ place, as you call it . . . Iâ€™m not bored here. I have a front row seat to life here on the east side of the lake.
You mention a few things I have going for me. I have a few more you havenâ€™t thought about. I see and hear the most unusual things as people live and love by the lake. I hear their stories. They read books, and some, including you, write in blank books. Whatâ€™s that about? Iâ€™d love to get my eyes on one of those books. It’s a mystery to me.
I also see their tears. At times, I have seen yours as you sit under the Weeping Willow Tree, which makes sense to me. I’m OK with your tears. I do wonder what makes you so sad sometimes.
I often see you over here, in the evening for the sunsets you love. I get to see them too, each one unique and breath-taking. And although I know youâ€™re not a morning person, I wish you could see mornings here. The early light is hard to describe, not as dramatic as at sunset, but oh so quiet, and cool, even on the hot days. Youâ€™d like it, and yes, youâ€™d have to get up earlier than you do.
You know how you love the sound of the wind in the willows? Yes, I know there is a book by that name. Have you read it? Iâ€™ll be surprised if you havenâ€™t, knowing your lifelong love affair with willow trees. Although, I should warn you, there are no willow trees in the story. Back to the sound of the wind in the willows; I get to hear it all the time, except for the rare breezeless day. Why are willow trees such a big deal for you anyway?
And those pesky geese I hear you complain about . . . I agree, the mess they leave is disgusting, especially as they migrate in the spring and again in the fall. I watch them for hours as they stick out their webbed feet and skid to a perfect landing on the water. I see them take off dropping into a V-formation. How did they learn to do that?
Iâ€™ll be honest, its hard here sometimes. The snow is pretty, but oh so cold. There are times I become numb to everything around me. The rain can be refreshing, but the thunderstorms scare me. The screech of the lightening siren is disturbing; I hate it when that happens.
Sometimes the water level rises, and I used to think this might be the end of me. I am learning it goes down in a few days. I need to remind myself of this the next time Iâ€™m overwhelmed.
I do hate it when people mess up the park, leaving their trash all over the place. Itâ€™s no fun dealing with othersâ€™ messes. Most of the time, I focus my attention on the beauty in front of me. Thereâ€™s nothing like being close to water. Itâ€™s what you always say.
Iâ€™m enjoying this exchange. I hope you write back. I realize I donâ€™t even know your name or anything about you. All I know is you come over here a lot. What kind of books are you reading?
Iâ€™ll look forward to hearing back from you.
Stay tuned, Dear Readers.Â I’ve been working on a reply to her. I’ll share it with you in another few weeks. In between I’ll share another one of my “Stories for my Grands.”