|Under “the picnic tree” on my sixteenth birthday…|
Looked out the window this morning to see that one my favorite little trees had died.
That beautiful Dogwood on the edge of the woods…the “picnic tree.”
I got a lump in my throat and felt suddenly angry about this whole drought.
Looking around, we have potential losses everywhere. Brown leaves, green ones drooping, once-beauitful ponds turned to dry, cracked craters.
Reading about Somalia made me feel guilty for my anger and sadness over our land. We aren’t starving. We are going to be fine without that little Dogwood.
And then Ann’s post brought tears to my eyes and so much hope to my heart.
“…the earth knows nothing wasted.”