Nostalgia

This past Sunday I had to drive across town to meet with a friend. I allowed a bit of extra time so I could stop in the Hallmark store there (where I often shopped when I lived in that area). With about 20 minutes to spare after Hallmark, I drove past my former house and property to view "my" (they’ll always be mine) trees. With about two acres of what was partially wooded when I lived there (the new people are cutting things down), I’d planted many additional trees, mostly ornamentals, and named each of them. So I had to drive around the block three times so I could cruise by from different angles and check on Brenda, Maggie, Gerald, Clara, Harry, Marc, and all the others. Sadly, one of them (none of the above-named) had died, probably from last summer’s drought. It was still a young tree and would have needed some watering to survive the severity of the drought. Nostalgia is such a bitter-sweet thing, isn’t it?