Walking to the grocery store a few weeks ago, I noticed a tree branch on the ground. It had been knocked off a small street tree. I thought, “if that’s still there on my way back, I'm going to take it home with me.”
It was. And I did. I can only hope that right now you are smiling in the same way that the young man in the pick-up truck did when he saw me awkwardly carrying several bags of groceries and a rather large branch up my street.
I cut smaller branches off the larger branch and put them in some water. I couldn't remember what the tree had looked like last spring, so I had no idea what to expect, and from what I had read online about “forcing” tree branches to blossom, I was prepared for nothing at all to happen. The buds were rather large though, which made me think each might open into a large flower.
Then they began to slowly open and it became clear that each bud was a collection of small buds.
All shut tight, each little bud had a shocking pink center, and so I was surprised again when each one opened into a white flower, all trace of pink having disappeared.
I think I have learned to notice and appreciate nature more living in the city than I ever could living in the country. I enjoy the immersive experience of being in the woods, but I am the kind of person who “loses the trees for the forest.” In the city, each tree, each wildflower in a sidewalk crack, each set of bunny prints in the snow stands out more clearly. A fallen tree branch in the woods is just another fallen tree branch, a fallen tree branch on a city sidewalk on my way to the grocery store is an opportunity for wonder.
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