Last weekend, the arborist George Conety came over to the farmhouse and he and his friend walked over and up onto every tree limb of the old Apple tree and the White Birch. They hauled off trailer loads of dead twigs and branches, and they pronounced these two venerable old trees – both planted around the time the farmhouse was built – healthy and restored.

The trees do look different, they have a grace and beauty and vibrancy they did not have a few weeks ago. They seem to be holding their arms and dancing together, perhaps in celebration or relief. They are waving to me.