As I referenced before, I have a seeking suspicion that my basil plant has gotten all of its odd habits from jealousy the trees across the street. (By the way, though... I found him today on the ground... yes, on the ground. He must have jumped. I vacuumed up the dirt and put him back on the window sill. Oh dear... from having an identity crisis to being a thrill seeker... :s poor basil). Anyway, I can't blame him his silly antics. For the trees across the street have the most beautiful love story. I'm going to take my time and savor the details of it. :)
So, every morning, or most of them, I make coffee, eat breakfast with my hubby and curl up on the loveseat in my living room. The living room is across the street from a huge old catholic church:
And right next to the church, on the left is a large tree, see? I have no idea what kind of tree it is, but there are two of them. The same kind, but male and female. (Yes, trees have genders.) They stand guard over the priest's home, which is a stately old Victorian house.
In summer, right after we got married and I was still getting over the shock of it all and desperately missing any signs of nature around me in this huge, old, (often ugly) city. (I've found my havens of beauty now though, don't worry). I would curl up with my coffee and watch the leaves rustle in the wind, almost clapping their hands for joy at being alive and together in the middle of a concrete jungle with no other trees around them. Just grass across the street (by the way.. that is all the grass there is on that corner hehe... you can't tell from the picture though) with some fuddy-duddy looking little shoe boxes turned on their sides into 3 story apartment/town homes... which is where we live:
Anyway, these trees were SUCH comfort to me. I was a newlywed wife in a big intimidating city that I was too proud to admit scared me. I would drink my coffee and watch the trees, getting lost in their branches and leaves and the old-tree whispers until all the traffic sounds and people walking on the sidewalk faded out. Once, Joel woke me from my revelry asking if I was counting people, "Oh look there's another one... and another one!" But I wasn't. I was watching the Bride and Groom. But they didn't had those names yet. I was just watching two trees, wondering what they would look like in the fall with their red leaves blowing around them, or in the winter laden with snow. At the same time, I wondered what my life would look like in the fall... then the winter... then the spring... then the summer...then... My future seemed so big and uncharted. But I didn't really think that to myself... I only pondered the trees; letting my subconscious ponder my own life in its parallel year of seasons.
Slowly I began to respect these huge old trees, whispering to each other over the old Victorian home. I loved watching them courting each other through the fall, happily flinging leaves at each other and out to the wind in joyful praise to the God who made them and let them stand together through life. Their leaves grew a brilliant red and began to fall, swirling around them.
Then winter came with its icy grip of snow, wind and rain that battered the poor trees left without a covering to the world. This was their testing, for they had pledged themselves to each other, and all sacred pledges will be tested. They both met the realities of life together and bend and swayed and shivered together in the onslaught of that violent season. Sure there were times of peace and crisp sunshine, but these periods would end in the fury of a new winter storm that grid locked the city several times through the frozen months. And there they stood as winter fought to maintain its grip through January, February, March, and yes, even into April. They stood together, tired and cold, but resolute waiting for the coming of spring as they reached their helpless, barren fingers up to the sky; asking their Maker for the strength to endure.
Then, finally, the snow turned to rain and the Lord let blizzards become life-giving thunderstorms. The rain fell in blessing from the heavens from the God who loved them both. Slowly, timidly, they thawed and reached their roots in His abiding grace, and finding water and life-giving nutrients in the soil that they drank heartily and gratefully. They started to grow small leaves and buds again, plaintively seeking the sun. Then, one weekend, they suddenly exploded with joy and life. This, you see, was their wedding week. God, I and little Basil were the only guests. One tree, covered in delicate white bouquets of white blossoms, was the bride. The other, in a elegant green suit tailored for him by his Father, met his bride with the dignity and joy that befit the occasion. They had a week, you see, because only humans abbreviate the joy to a day that should be savored. They were married there, at the end of the week as the sun set behind them and the old Victorian home under their boughs. And God saw it, and said that it was good.
I did not see them for a time, you see... because I was away, but that is just as well, for every couple should have privacy on their honeymoon. When I returned, the white blossoms of the wedding day were gone and the bride was a newlywed wife, ready to live out the rest of her days next to the grand old tree she loved so much.
And there they stand. I move away in a month, but I know they will stand there much longer together. They will quietly face the seasons and their trials together, never complaining or asking for pity from the passer-by, but simply looking unto their Maker and Father.
