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Sunday, October 23, 2005A Tree grows in The Bronx...
I live in a tree lined neighborhood; it’s a cornucopia of greenery and flowers. There’s one tree in particular that has always held my attention. The grand lady grows three blocks from my home; she is majestic, and she is beautiful.
She is more than a tree she is my barometer for the seasons. Never mind the calendar nor what the weatherman says. I can tell if we’re going to have an early spring or cold autumn by when she commences her blooming and molting. When I gaze on her I focus on her colors. On the varying shades that make up her leaves and how she contrasts with the colors of the houses surrounding her.
For thirteen years I’ve watched her from my seventh floor window. I watch her come to life in the spring and watch her drift off into hibernation as summer slips into autumn, and autumn into winter. As if by magic her green leaves are transformed into brilliant hues of yellow, orange, and red before falling to the ground creating a lovely multicolored carpet.
On winter mornings when the grand lady's wig has been put into storage I can see the starlings flying in and out of her branches where they make their home. During the spring and summer I can only see them for a fraction of a second as they approach the tree disappearing into her lush foliage. I can hear them when they sing from the tree but can never spot them in the tree. During the holiday season she looks beautiful draped in white lights, a beacon of holiday cheer welcoming revelers to her block. Somehow the tree soothes my spirit and has a tranquil effect on me. I look at her and I feel connected to nature, connected to the spiritual side of me. Nothing man made could ever be as beautiful as this tree that grows in The Bronx. I thank Mother Nature for the gift of beauty in the trees, and the heavens, I thank the heavens for the gift of life.
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