Trees, for some inexplicable reason, tend to carry an emotional attachment. There is something about seeing the same towering branches, season after season that is somewhat comforting.
When a tree is part of your history, it has even more meaning. This large maple tree has been the property where my parents live for many years. It was there when I was growing up, and it was there when my dad was growing up. Its roots are entwined with our roots.
I can remember sitting under it with a book, waiting for the bus and collecting beautiful coloured leaves from under it in the fall.
When my family gathered at Thanksgiving this year, we were told the tree had to be cut down. It was dead for the most part and this year while other trees flaunted their fall colours, this tree looked rather barren. My brother John suggested we get some photos with the tree as the next time we gather as a family, it will be gone.
I was a little sad to hear this news, but it provided a great impromptu photo shoot for the family. It will be strange to drive down that country road an see an empty spot where it once stood.