Before the thunderstorm a month or so ago this was a thriving oak tree. It was outside of Nana's house in Savannah.
This is what is left of that tree. Lightening struck it and split it down the middle. This week the rest of the tree will be disassembled and the stump will be taken out of the ground. It will be as if it were never there lending shade and comfort to the area.
I always feel bad when a tree comes down. They are so majestic and so beautiful. They grow for a such long time. I love how you can know the age of a tree by counting its rings. A tree is God's creation. No man can make a tree.
At Nana's old house there was a tree that supposedly was a resting place for Sherman's army as he made his way through our lovely town.
One day a giant limb from that tree came through the roof and right down into the living room of her house.
Savannah, Georgia, is known for her oak trees. They are legendary in this city. They grow profusely and they get quite large. Moss grows in them and hangs down to give the town that old southern charm. They make canopies over our streets, they make the ground sparkle when the sun shines down through their leaves. In the parks and squares downtown they are proudly on display.
Trees have inspired poems. Lovers have carved their initials on trees as they pledge their love beneath their swaying branches. Many a picnic lunch has been consumed under the cool shade of their leaves.
Farewell, sweet oak, we will sadly miss you.
cathy
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