This post seems to be having a viral moment, and deservedly so. It’s an elegy for an old tree.
People never had trouble finding our house.
“It’s the one with the giant maple in front,” I’d say, “the one with the tire swing.”
That was enough. They’d see the tree, massive, 60 feet tall and almost as wide, then behind is, hiding, our 1905 farmhouse.
The tree was one of the oldest in Northbrook: easily 125 years old, and was perhaps the best feature about our place. A living link to the 19th century.
“I bought the tree,” I’d tell visitors, “and the house came with it.”
Read the whole thing. It’s a lovely piece of writing; elegiac and affirming at the same time.