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They cut down the Dogwood tree.
As part of the whole "selling the house" thing, my mom had to have her septic system replaced. It happens all the time in the town she lives in--no house being sold these days that doesn't already have a new system is pretty much bound to fail the Title 5 inspection--there was no surprise in that. The surprise came in when she got home yesterday and discovered that in digging up the backyard, the septic guys had cut down the Dogwood.
They didn't ask her. They just cut it down.
I don't ever want to go in the backyard again.
The tree flowers at the end of May. Beautiful, fragrant pink flowers that you can't help but smile at. One of my favorite photos is of Jill, Carla and me under the tree on the night of Jill's and my junior prom. She and I are on either side of Carla, covering her t-shirt and shorts with our prom gowns. All three of us have huge grins on our faces. It's a happy, happy photo.
A few years ago, the Dogwood was sick. It didn't flower so much. Carla's brother helped us nurse it back to health. It rewarded us last year with a gorgeous display of pink.
David set his bench up underneath it. He would sit out there and "reflect." Mom says the bench is missing, too, though they may have just moved it. She got home too late last night to investigate So help me, if they destroyed his bench...
Bit by bit, they're going to kill the house. It makes me sad. But it also makes her leaving there easier. It's like my uncle covering the Rock in Conway. When you take away the things that make a place yours, it becomes much easier to walk away.
Doesn't make me any less sad about the tree...
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