Many of you may remember my Radiant Tree from a few years ago. I was thinking about her this morning as I ate breakfast on my porch, staring at the spot where she once stood – where she watched over me, spoke to me, danced for me and protected me. If you do not know about my Radiant Tree here is a little something about her.

Though this tree did not belong to me it was part of my world. It brightened my day and shaded my face. A few feet outside my weathered fence its beautiful trunk stood tall and strong and mighty. Its long powerful branches reaching for the sky, protecting me from the sun. Its trunk showed the scars of old age. How old? I am not sure but old in cottonwood years. I could sit for hours and just watch this tree dance and listen to her sing with the help of the wind. It brought such peace to my heart. I called it my Radiant Tree. Every moment I could I thanked Mother Nature for her gift to me. I was very saddened when my neighbor, who of course did not see or feel as I did for this tree, reported he was tearing it down. He was afraid that the tree was getting old and that it had become weakened. I could almost hear the tree sob as she overheard our conversation. I cried for this tree, I mourned the loss of this Radiant Tree.

This morning as I sat on my porch watching over this spot I started thinking of her, remembering her. Remembering how even the slightest bit of wind would send every leaf dancing. Remembering how the wind would speak through her. Remembering the sounds of her songs as the wind urged her to sing. Remembering how birds dotted through out would singing their thanks to her. Remembering how she would gently caressed the squirrels making them feel welcomed and at home. Remembering how watching her dance and listening to her sing would bring such joy to my world and happiness to my heart. In her absence it did bring another beautiful site – an amazing picture of Colorado mountains in the far distance. This morning as I sat and ate my breakfast I remembered her and the joy she brought into my world. Even in her absence I felt the joy and happiness. Like Kathleen says, our cells remember. This morning beyond a different neighbor’s house I noticed another Cottonwood Tree, who knows perhaps a distant cousin. It to was dancing in the light breeze; shaking from it its morning drew. The way the waking sun kissed the leaves making them shimmer was simply breathtaking. It was too far for me to hear it makes it morning speech, but that was okay because at least I could see and enjoy its dance. And it brought such peace and joy to my heart.

Kari