It's nature's way. This tree, having endured heaven knows what death-dealing impact, sprang to life this spring, as trembly green and fragrant as all its compadres on the creek trail by the peacock farm at Greenbelt Meadows, near my home.
Ah, greenbelt. Ah, meadows. Ah, forming oneself around and with and through the blows dealt in the course of growing up. That is why I love trees: they don't mask their injuries, they capitalize on them, when they can.
Which makes me mighty glad.
Take heart. If you live through the heart-stopping difficulties, they can form and strengthen and even liberate you.
Life needs your sap, your dappling of the path, your instincts, your particular expression of this momentary joy.