Today, we are planting our newest tree for the front of our farmhouse, a seven-foot high Sycamore Maria bought online had shipped here. I started photographing Sycamores  in the Spring a couple of years ago, and Maria fell in love with them.

This is the fifth tree we’ve planted out front. I am well aware that I am not likely to see this Sycamore to be anywhere near fully grown when I die. Hopefully, Maria will live to see it as a grown tree.

The old farmers planted this giant and beautiful maples around their farmhouses for beauty and shade, and few of them lived to see them fully grown. We are happy to honor this tradition and think of the next generation, our beautiful old farmhouse will be shaded by proud and beautiful Maple and Sycamore trees, along with the lilac bushes we have planted.

I did pause as we finished digging the hole, and felt a twinge of regret that I almost certainly wouldn’t get to see this tree grown. But I hope the people living in the house in 50 or 60 years will think of us, as we often think of those that came before us.

I respect life, it is a wheel that turns.

Red came out and sat with us, Bud and Fate watched from the dog run.