An Open Letter to the Stumps

Dear Stumps:

I have just recovered from removing you, but that is not your fault. I hold no malice against the three of you. In fact, I never wanted to meet you in the first place (again, I don't mean to offend). Were it not for the wrath of Old Man Winter which laid low two of the leyland cypresses you faithfully supported and peeled a main artery off of the third, we would never have dreamed of the painful extraction process that we have just completed (the pain I refer to is, of course, mine).

No, in fact we loved those trees and wonderful

wall of green they created all year. They scattered the morning sun as it rose--the sun that now blindingly blasts through the kitchen window each morning during breakfast. They served as home a host of birds including the pair of cardinals who sprayed specks of color against your deep background. And they were a fortress under which the boys invented adventures.

And so although your resistance may have caused me to say things about you that were unkind and even hurtful, it was with saddness that we removed you. Do not mistake the names I called you for anything but admiration for the knotted complex of roots that you put down and wrapped tightly around rock and mud and anything else that would provide a secure foundation for each towering conifer. If I lashed out, it was only because it was almost unfathomable that you could push your roots through ground that required repeated blows with a pick axe to break.

But now we must say goodbye old friends. In your place we will place another evergreen who we will urge to stand as tall and strong as those trees that you held erect. Like foes in a battle, I shall never forget you (well, until the dementia sets in), but even then I will look back at this letter and remember.

your friend--

cps