From The Heart of A Dwarf Spruce Tree

Dwarf Spruce In Landscape Design In The Garden

Photo©OlgaVolodina/123rf

I am a dwarf spruce tree. The hands that planted me did so tenderly. Water drenched my roots, and I drank eagerly.

The days passed and turned into years, my branches reaching out and up. I weathered storms, snow, and drought. I never gave up. My branches served as perches for birds to hide from predators and hunt for food.

My roots clung to the soil, and the dirt gripped me back. I took what I needed to survive. I gave everything I could: safety to the birds and stability and nutrients to the earth.

One day, I was drinking in the sun’s rays that warmed the needles on my branches when my trunk separated from my life-giving roots, and I toppled over on the ground with a thud. My body tried to repair the damage in vain. Slowly, the life drained out of me. I did not struggle.

I did not know the person that requested my death. To him, I was a flaw in his otherwise attractive yard. My body was not perfect. I grew unevenly, a branch reaching too far one way and not enough the other.

I was unique, not what he expected. It was this that caused my demise.

I did not die in vain, for I contributed while I lived. The baby bluebird that sat on my branches the morning of my death felt comforted, nestled between my thick branches as its parent hunted for food. I felt the warmth of appreciation as someone watched this scene from the nearby house. I felt her gratitude for my presence.

She was me, and I was she.

In the minutes before the felling, she shared space with me and lovingly touched my branches as she thanked me for all I did. She took a deep breath and grasped that everything was as it should be, silently repeating the wisdom from Lynn Mann’s book In Search of Peace: “All is well, always.”

Diane R. Jones is the author of the award-winning Rudy the Rudster children’s book series. She is an animal lover and passionate about protecting the environment. Diane lives in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.