Lump in my throat

Lump in my throat

I didn’t see
the old elm tree —
no glorious canopy
waving to me —
its giant shadow
without a trace —
I bow my head
as tears fall
down my face —
the lump
in my throat —
a sprouting
seed of hope.

Click on the links below to view pictures of the old elm tree in all its former glory.  I feel very fortunate to have known such a magnificent giant.  May seeds rain down this Spring and sprout in your stead.

About tyler4turtles

I am an avid photographer, poet, ecologist, bookworm, blogger, art enthusiast and runner who calls Montana home but lives in Oregon.
This entry was posted in Nature and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

33 Responses to Lump in my throat

  1. Allison W. says:

    Lovely shot, Tyler! And beautifully written words to match 🙂

  2. kiwiskan says:

    Love this – that’s how I felt when our liquidamber had to come down. But there are baby ones out there now

  3. It is sad when nature is not allowed to take it’s own course. A tree is so full of stories. No one can take away those stories and I’m sure you a part of many of them, Tyler. Your admiration, respect and memories for that tree will live on in your heart. 🙂

  4. loisajay says:

    Tyler, I’m so sorry. You captured it well, in all its posterity.

  5. LarryG says:

    I know that feeling! It’s as traumatic as losing any other type of friend!

    • Yes it is, Larry. I was accustomed to seeing the same inspiring sights on my Nature hikes / it gave me a sense of security / when all other aspects of life were in constant change / I could rely on one tree to firmly ground me / and provide beautiful stability. I hope you have a wonderful week, my friend!
      Tyler 🙂

  6. marymcavoy says:

    I feel the sadness of your loss. What is it about long-standing old trees? Maybe that they have quietly witnessed so much of human life. My mother lived in the same house for 55 years. She loved “the old ash tree” behind the house. It was old when she moved into the house. It watched her raise her children as they slip-slid past it to the skating pond beyond, or ambled by with fishing pole in the summer, or carved labyrinthine pathways in the meadow above its roots and chased one another in games of tag in its shade. My mother lived till age 89 and died in her home, not 200 feet from the ash tree. I live in her house now. I sometimes look out at the ash and wonder if it misses her.
    I referenced the tree at the end of post in December 2011 – a post that was a tribute to my mother. Here’s the link if you’re interested:

    I understand your sense of loss and your hope!

    • Thank you so much, my friend! I truly appreciate your kind words and support. Also, thank you for sharing your wonderful, heartfelt story. So sorry to hear about your mother’s passing. I’m sure she looks down on you everyday, her warm eyes touching you like sunshine, sending rays of hope to grow another generation of trees 🙂 Have a wonderful week!
      Tyler 🙂

  7. taheesays says:

    Wow, such nice words put together to sum a wonderful emotion for nature’s child.
    Well done Tyler and I hope the little ones get your attention too.


  8. Tyler that is lovely. A sad verse, a beautiful photo and hope for the future. Your words are very touching as always.

    • Thank you kindly, Mary! Trees are the anchors in my life, they ground my sense of place and root me to memories. I owe my life to these ancient, gentle giants. Not a day goes by that I do not find solace under the shade of a beautiful tree, its boughs and leaves inspiring my every breath. Hope you had a wonderful Memorial Day weekend, my friend!
      Tyler 🙂

  9. The image is absolutely beautiful Tyler-and your words made me stop and think about all the great trees that I have come across-I found myself giving great thanks for the wonderful old cherry tree in my front yard particularly-

  10. Rasma R says:

    Ah such wonderful sentiments. This oak must be an ancestor of the oak in my garden. As I gazed at the picture I could see like a face and the spot where my head reaches my oak there too is a spot that it seems his eyes are looking at me. He always gives us strength and comfort and protects us from all storms watching over our home. I have a great fondness for all trees and some in particular like our oak and I call him Henry.

  11. pi314chron says:

    A lovely and heartfelt expression, Tyler. Your loss is a loss for all of us on the planet. May whatever gods that be have mercy on our souls.

  12. I’m always sad when a tree I know gets chopped down 😦

    One of our local farmers felled my favourite tree on the way into my village this spring – when I saw it was gone, it was like a blow! Another pair of trees I liked were a pair of what I called ‘The Kissing Hawthorns’ – the two trees were leaned towards each other and their tops entwined like an arch. That farmer got fed up of mowing around them and chopped them down. Very sad…

  13. Melody J Haislip says:

    That Was an impressive tree. It’s sad when something, man or Nature, takes one of the big ones down!

    • Thank you, Melody! Yes, unfortunately this tree was damaged during a winter storm and they had to cut it down because it was a safety hazard. It’s very hard to see such a beautiful giant taken down in the prime of its life, but Nature is indifferent, nothing spared from death. Hope you had a splendid Summer Solstice, my friend, and have a fantastic week ahead!
      Tyler 🙂

  14. Love the photo with all that texture.

  15. Delightfully evocative 🙂

    • Thank you kindly, Margaret! I’m glad you enjoyed it, my friend! I hope you’re having a wonderful weekend 🙂 Keep inspiring the world with your blog!

  16. pndrgn99 says:

    When I was very young I lived in a town in Southern Connecticut. U.S. Route number one passed through our town before Route 95 was ever built going up and down the East Coast. There were miles of road along which the Elms met overhead making the drive through town a drive through a long green tunnel. Then the Elm trees begin to die and soon they were all cut down for fear that they would fall on the powerlines and homes. I was devastated and their loss changed the look of my world forever.
    Occasionally I still see if early large at home and isolated area sometimes in a Farmfield or far enough away from other trees so it has yet to catch the Dutch Elm disease that kills them all. It originally came because the boats they came into New York Harbor has shipping crates made of Elmwood from trees that had died of the disease. This was long before we really thought about you collage of damage or invasive species at all and before anyone realized what was happening the homes were all gone.

    My point is that I understand how you must feel. I didn’t know if you knew the history so I thought I’d fill in some of the story in case you didn’t.

    Thank you for reading my work.

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