Trust the Tree

Imagine the scene ... it was June 2002, and my husband and I were at the end of our third trip to this house with our realtor.  In addition to the purchase price, we did what we could to mentally tally up a list of the renovations that we thought the place would need ... roof, paint removal, plaster repair, floor refinishing, masonry, HVAC, electrical, kitchen, bathrooms, the list goes on ... I think both of us were overwhelmed at the prospect.  

As we stood on the deck that day and talked about it, knowing that we had to make a decision, I kept looking at the huge tree in the yard ... imagining what that tree had seen in its life, how it sheltered the house with its dominating presence, and picturing how (or if) I would be a part of its next chapter.

View from the deck today at about mid-morning.

How could we be sure that this would be our forever home?  The tree whispered to me, I swear it did, and I knew that this was home.  

Thirteen years ago, during the first week of January 2003, three months after settlement, I put the first hammer and pry bar to this place.  I like to think that the tree had no way to know about all the additional things we would find that the house needed ... how our two-year plan to renovate and move in would stretch to five years, with a nonstop parade of projects continuing since then.  If it did know, it wasn't letting on.

It is, after all, just a tree.