People walking down the sidewalk never seemed to notice it, but on a mid summers day I know they felt its shade, if only for a moment as they passed under it. I watched yesterday as it was cut down, one limb at a time. I pondered its size and its life. The tree man was able to bring it down in a day. Then he ground the stump leaving no evidence that it was ever here.
Life goes on.
Fall comes late to this part of the country so the annual celebration of death is only now beginning. While so much appears to be dying we pause for an annual celebration of life that happens each November. One of the most moving services of the year for me is the day that we read the names of the saints. When the names are read the veil between this world and the next is broached and the saints, if only for a moment, are strangely present. There is a flood of memories and a profound sense of awe.