In about 1962, my dad's secretary, Bob Conley, came to visit us at the cabin. Mom and Dad took him to Elk Mountain. Mom commented about how much she liked the Foxtail Pines that were up there. The next thing she knew, Bob had pulled one out of the ground and they brought it home.
Every year we would watch the growth of that little tree. It started out a foot high. Growth was slow and painful. Sometimes it seemed it did not grow at all. But it hung in there.
About three years ago, it was finally a little taller than I. It was a skinny, misshapen thing, but it was tenacious. I loved that tree. I had watered it and nurtured it for 50 years.
I had a feeling that it would be gone after the fire. If the fire did not get it, I knew the firefighters would. I was prepared, but I was still very sad when I saw that they had cut it down.
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| The little tree was to the right of the big tree on the left. |
I understand why they cut it down. I appreciate their work. But I am sad that my little, tenacious foxtail pine is no longer there.
This is another case of heart vs mind, and heart is winning.
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