Where This Meets That
Long-time “Crossroaders” might recall my Job-like saga concerning redbud trees. It began six years ago, when I bypassed the Lowe’s nursery to instead snatch two volunteers (saplings that sprouted on their own) from a roadside wood and transplant them into our yard.
Karma was instant, plaguing me with a round of poison ivy that could’ve come straight out of the Old Testament. Soon after the rash cleared, a massive tree branch crashed down on one of the two relocated trees, striking it with an apparent mortal wound. Over the next couple years, the surviving redbud failed to blossom or even grow much. I lost heart.
Year before last, I finally had a little luck. I discovered that the poor little redbud that had been crushed by the limb had resurrected and was making a comeback. Nevertheless, neither tree showed any sign of blooming.
Last year, I ran out of patience. I bought a new redbud from Lowe’s and hoped for the best. Unfortunately, in June, a towering pine in our neighbor’s yard collapsed through our flowerbed during a microburst. No, it didn’t land on the new redbud, only nearby. But it did inspire my neighbors to remove a number of similarly vulnerable trees, and the creature of a tree guy they hired apparently looked at our new little redbud and cried, “Arrrgh! That looks like a swell place to blast all the mulch from all these giant downed pines!”
Luckily, my neighbors are good folks. They saw what he did and proactively offered to replace the poor little tree. It was twisted, half buried, and ugly, but it was still there, so I declined and gave it a chance to recover.
I’m pleased to share that this spring, two redbuds (one transplant and the one from Lowe’s) have finally given a meager offering of blossoms. You gotta start somewhere, I guess. Hopefully this is a happy harbinger of springs to come!