The Picture Tree

If you've known my family for any length of time, you're probably familiar with the Picture Tree.

It sits proudly in front of my parents home in Littleton, Colorado and has served as the backdrop for an unbelievable amount of photos. 

Proms, Homecoming dances, visiting relatives, childhood friends… they have all been deemed reason enough to capture a pose next to this glorious maple.  

"The Picture Tree" was the moniker assigned by my parents, but the tree was much more than that.

It seemed invincible somehow as it towered above our humble ranch home.

When my parents first bought the house in the late 1960's, it was just about roof height.  

The two pine trees that flank the house weren't even that tall.

But, as seasons came and went, the trees grew into magnificent giants.

This summer, while visiting my parents' home with my children, I noticed something strange in the tree:

I asked about this, and my parents responded that a very large mushroom had grown in the tree.

They made an appointment to have a tree specialist take a look.

It was determined that the trunk of our beloved tree had rotted away and was now hollow.

This posed a very big risk as winters in Colorado are known to bring blizzards.

The enormous tree that had once felt like a security blanket in front of the house was in danger of toppling over onto the home if weather conditions allowed.

With heavy hearts, my parents knew they must have the tree removed.

Limb by limb, this gentle beast of a tree was disassembled.

My heart felt disassembled, too.

I still can't believe that something so strong and magnificent was reduced to a stump in no time at all.

Though I wasn't there in person for this process, my mom texted me regular photo updates. 

I was undeniably sad.

Our beloved Picture Tree, which served as the background for nearly all my childhood photos had been reduced to a pile of logs.

I felt a sense of grief, looking at the photo of the logs stacked on my parent's lawn, awaiting disposal.

But then, my mom sent me this photo:

I literally gasped when I saw the shape of the tree stump that remained.

A heart.

A residual image of love.

I teared up as I thought of "The Giving Tree" book and connected how this tree had endured the seasons of our family. 

Though the tree was almost completely gone, the love from the memories around that tree remain.

At last, my sweet Mama sent me this photo of our daughter and her cousins:

My heart melted and the tears flowed.

This sweet little heart-shaped stump once again became The Picture Tree, 

serving the next generation.

Our Family Tree.

Love, Live and Create with Intention,

Kristi