On the way to the recycling bin at my house, a reaching limb brushed my cheek. It was as is if it was trying to get my attention.
Having deposited the recyclables, I turned to the face the redbud tree that beckoned. I was astonished to realize the height, reach and vibrancy of it.
This tree should not be doing this well, given the way I transplanted it so many times. The last time I moved it to its current, easterly spot, I knew that was it for ever moving it again.
Beholding its surprising and inspiring growth despite its challenges, I likened it to my experiences of relocation and adaptation. Much like my move from the Presidio to Marin Art and Garden Center, I’m flourishing. I’m throwing down roots, growing.
