Whatever you do, don't chop my tree down!

"I was born the same year that tree out there was planted."

I was fascinated by my elderly client who had a unique knowledge of the area.
He measured everything by trees.
He was ailing, and his family was circling. He held a large property which he regarded as a trust of sorts. He was a steward of the land.

The sands of time slip quickly through and he could almost count the ones he had left. Although he was closing in on a century he was so vital in every way except one: he had high blood pressure. The Doctor read him the riot act about gardening.

I was sitting with him one evening as he was cataloging the different native species in his bog. One parcel of his land was a marsh, which he absolutely adored.
Not so the family.

I heard him telling the grandsons and great-grandsons about the tree that shared his birthday. "Whatever you do don't chop my tree down."

He succumbed to a fatal stroke a few months ago.
The tree succumbed to an axe not long after.

I heard along the grapewine the marsh flooded the house where the grandson took up residence.

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