On my last morning in the house I’d lived in for twenty-three years, I opened my eyes to the rogue cherry tree fat with blossoms outside my bedroom window. That tree grows in the neighbor’s yard. I resented it when it first popped up, in spite of a paucity of trees in our urban neighborhood, because it blocked the wee bit of sun in our light-starved yard.
Over the years, the tree grew to the second story, where it hid the ugly power lines outside my bedroom window. The Rogue Cherry became a friend I celebrated from blossom to leaf-fall to tree-bone time. Some of my best creative ideas came from the day dream consciousness induced by its swaying. Who would have guessed?
How I will miss seeing that tree every morning. It was a bell in my life. Transitions, even good ones, are hard.
But here on my first morning writing at my new house on three acres in the Nisqually Valley, I sit outside under another cherry tree fat with blossoms. My world is now filled with trees—Douglas Firs, maples, cottonwoods, magnolias, and more. Filled with birds. Filled with the roar of the Nisqually River in my backyard. All of them are bells for a light-starved heart.
Making friends with a place requires time and attention, as it does with a person. But this cherry tree I already love, for it will forever remind me of the Rogue Cherry that once comforted a heart aching for the light and the green.
If there are rogues in your life, maybe it’s time to embrace them.
LORE OF THE BELL
If there are rogues in your life,
embrace them, and see what happens.