I heard him say it for concerning the millionth time.
“It used to cover my home,” he mentioned wistfully of the Japanese maple that when shaded his townhouse. “It was 15 toes tall.”
Some years earlier than my boyfriend and I met, a squirrel girded that maple, stripping it of its bark till its leaves parched and curled, its skinny branches withered, and it died. What as soon as had been a proud flourish of star-like, burgundy leaves was diminished to a low stump in a patch of filth between his brick patio and wooden fence.
My boyfriend had nice causes to not exchange it—particularly, the outdated tree’s stays can be a ache to take away. However I used to be undeterred.
Right here, I assumed, was an excellent present.
