Today I am reporting that the low hanging hickory branch, the one I spoke with, the one who's fate was to be determined, is now bursting full of leaves.
The beauty of this experience, you see, as I am realizing in these last few days, is that, well, you should know first, that the hickory trees around the studio are all mature, they have very high crowns, and this one branch that bent in the storm hangs so low that I can actually see the buds and leaves up close, at eye level. So, now I know things about this tree that I would never have known; things like, for instance, that when the hickory bud bursts, two things are in there, the leaves, of course, and some rough, stringy things that must produce pollen. They are both wrapped up in the bud together. Things like that. So I'm happy that the branch is blooming and doesn't have to be cut down. No doubt. But I've had experiences with this tree that would never have happened unless they were literally put in my path, brought down to my level, and in my face. And besides inspiring my sketches and writing, I'm wondering where my proximity to this branch will lead me.