Friday, February 1, 2013

The Golden Avenue

I will never forget those shining autumn afternoons – I’d pick up K from school, and often go for a drive and talk talk talk… Then we'd head home, finishing the drive on the street that heads down the gently sloping hill into the little dell in which our house nestles.

That last quarter mile was heavenly in October—the large maples, beech, and oaks that line the street would glow with gold and scarlet and bronze, illuminated by the sun setting behind them. I’d slow the car to a crawl and we would just breathe in all that color and light.

“It’s a golden tunnel, a golden avenue,” said K, delighted.

I’m so glad I have that precious memory, and glad that she does, too.

Some of those trees were taken down yesterday, and more are coming down even as I write.

Add it to the list of outrageous fellings.

My heart breaks over and over again.

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