We have one of these on our old land too. Only much smaller, a bit different. Every year we watch it to see if the rot will move it along quicker or slower than we thought. We wait for the buds to show up—we can already see that its last spring will be witnessed by us. It’s imminent.
I am so moved by your writing, by your attention, by your connecting children to nature. I do it too. I know it too. I’m so happy you share it.
Our house is old. The land is older. And I think what we are all supposed to do is witness it change. Support it where we can. In Anam Cara, John O’Donohue says that when someone is dying, our job is just to be present for that death, to witness it, and to leave our own stuff at the door. I think that’s just what you’re doing. It’s beautiful.
Thanks for sharing all of it. The tree is lucky to be loved by you.
Great to read this piece in its final form, Gavin! Zippin’ it off to Substack like a pro!
I hope you had a safe journey home.
We have one of these on our old land too. Only much smaller, a bit different. Every year we watch it to see if the rot will move it along quicker or slower than we thought. We wait for the buds to show up—we can already see that its last spring will be witnessed by us. It’s imminent.
I am so moved by your writing, by your attention, by your connecting children to nature. I do it too. I know it too. I’m so happy you share it.
Our house is old. The land is older. And I think what we are all supposed to do is witness it change. Support it where we can. In Anam Cara, John O’Donohue says that when someone is dying, our job is just to be present for that death, to witness it, and to leave our own stuff at the door. I think that’s just what you’re doing. It’s beautiful.
Thanks for sharing all of it. The tree is lucky to be loved by you.
Christina, thanks very much for your thoughtful note. I agree completely. All we can do is witness.