passings

We have a live oak tree in our back yard. It's about ten years old. Though we thought it was a smaller variety when we put it in, it was rapidly outgrowing the yard. My wife and I had discussed that we might need to replace it with an ornamental tree, as we have very good luck with crepe myrtles. I hate to kill any living tree, though, particularly if it is faithfully growing where we planted it. Last night the winter storm moved in, with freezing rain and sleet. In the wee hours of the morning we heard a snap. Several branches of the live oak tree broke under the weight of the ice. Our fence was spared, and no wiring, people or pets were nearby. But we will have to replace the tree after all.

But that is all, in good southern fashion, the unimportant story told after the real story happens. The real story is that my father died at home after a long illness at 8:30 p.m. last night, and I will miss him all my life.