When I went back to school, the apple tree had fallen. The big ancient apple tree, left from the days when this valley was an orchard, the tree in the center of the playground, the tree we all made applesauce from every fall, the tree that is in the memory of my first day at the school- watching children in the tire swing, remembering how I had loved a tire swing as a child. I stood there and cried.
I shook my head at the "official" reasons that were given- knowing that it was a sign.
"Its roots on one side had been damaged by new construction. It had grown top heavy."
On second thought . . . it is exactly what has happened.
I need to focus on making my own trees.
