There is a very large tree in the back corner of our yard. Tall and old, this tree is part of the transportation network for the squirrels who jump from power lines to limbs, crossing over to the next yard without touching the ground. This tree is a hangout spot for birds. Sometimes the neighborhood owl even hangs out on the branches of this tree. One end of my hammock was anchored to this tree at one point. It is a good tree. At certain times of the day, this tree can shade the whole yard. Last year I noticed that the tree seemed to be the last to bud out leaves and the first to drop them. I would stare out the kitchen window and worry about it. What if this tree is dead?

I have had my own unfortunate experience with giant trees falling over into yards. Both times this has happened to me, the trees had not caused damage to the house. One completely knocked out the power for a week and dented the fence on both sides of the yard. Both were expensive messes to clean up. I look at this tree in our backyard and I can tell right away that two houses will be damaged if this thing falls over. After I spend some time fretting over the consequences of the tree falling over on it’s own, I worry about how much it will cost and what it will take to have the tree cut down. There is no way to get a truck with a lift on it into my backyard. Someone is going to have to climb that tree with a chainsaw. My stomach flips over and twists as I think about these things.

Michael noticed the tree this Spring. For the first time since he’s lived here, he suddenly realized what I was talking about when I worried out loud about that tree. He’s been enamored with the privacy fence our neighbors on the west have put in and he’s been pacing our fence line with a tape measure. That tree would need a work around if we were to put in a fence of our own. He decided that the tree was dead and must come down. So he called a lawn and tree service who sent a guy out to look at that tree. We never saw the guy. He snuck into our yard one afternoon this week and then sent a message to Michael with his diagnosis. He told Michael that we have a perfectly healthy and lovely walnut tree. He told us not to worry, that most people tend to think their backyard walnut tree is dead. They’re just late bloomers. If you look real close, you can just barely see a bit of green where leaf buds are beginning to leaf out. Our tree only seemed mostly dead (tooo blave).

There is a lesson here in worry and letting yourself lean towards the worst. I am sure that stems from some post traumatic stress. There was a time when my first instinct was not to think we are all doomed and everything is going to crash down around me. The phone ringing did not mean something disastrous has occurred. There was a time when I would have not even noticed the timing of the leaves of that tree. There was a time when we pretended tumors where an accidental tortilla chip. That was then. Now, I have to admit that I have a hard time not just snapping into fight or flight mode over the slightest thing. More often than not, there is less fight and more flight in those reactions. It is not something I am proud of, but there you have it. I have to remind myself to be strong. I have to remind myself to take a moment to evaluate a situation. I have to remind myself to be patient. Sometimes I have to write these reminders down on paper and skin. I have to keep the reminders close.

This tree is perfectly healthy. It just needs time.