I had a pretty rough week as a homeowner. As planned, a tree removal crew came to cut down a few trees to make way for the new shed. To make a long sob story short, they also cut down a huge, beautiful tree that was not supposed to be on the chopping block -- my favorite tree, right in the middle of the yard, nowhere near the clump of trees we hired them to remove. It was the tree that made the yard look magical. I cried like I'd lost a friend, and every time I pull in the driveway my heart sinks. I wish I'd worked from home that day so I could've run out there and stopped them. They are refunding part of our fee and will replace the tree at a discount, but it won't look the same for another, oh, 40 years. And I really hope I'm not still living here then.
In fact, that felt like the last straw. Though I have calmed down quite a bit since Monday, I've been making lists of all the things we'd have to do before we could put the house on the market... poking around Zillow for potential new home purchases... calculating the commuting distances of new neighborhoods... I don't know if/when we'll be in a position to sell, but entertaining the thought of moving -- even at some highly uncertain point in the future -- has been a good distraction.
As I have worked my way through the stages of grief this week, the house must have understood my sorrow and gave me a gift.
It grew me a flower -- of a variety we don't have anywhere else in our yard.
Sorry for ruining the last six years of your life. Here's a daisy.