Today I went to the church for a few minutes and noticed our Oleander trees needed water. The garden hose wasn't in front because men were using it in the back moving fence to give us more parking. So, since I was there I decided to go out and water the pecan trees by the arena that we planted in memory of loved ones.
I climbed the fence and started pulling the hose down to the end of the fence line. There was mud all over the hose, but I noticed that it smelled a lot worse than mud. As I was walking back to turn on the water I found out why. I had pulled the whole hose through a freshly laid cow pattie. I started to say freshly squeezed but that didn't sound very lady-like. It's safe to say that the hose wiped out most of that fertilizer mound.
So then I began to soak the trees. I bent over to wash all the mud off my shoe and raised up to see 20 something cows/steers/bulls (not real sure what they are so I'm covering all bases) staring at me through the fence. They had horns. I screamed a little.
Finishing one side and headed for the other, I was stopped in my tracks. Turned around and a big red cow/bull/steer was standing on my manure rough hose. Right on it. "Shoo!" didn't work. It just stared at me. I threatened with words that included "ground" and "round". Still stared. Reminded me a little of being a mom. The water hose became my weapon. They eventually left so I could finish up the job I had started.
The trees are beginning to bud, for which I am so grateful. The sign of life on something that represents a life no more.
I remember planting the first tree with the daddy of the man the tree was to represent. We dug, watered, planted and covered this small tree. He helped me with several others and as I was putting up hose, I noticed him leaning on his shovel, tears in his eyes, looking at this tree.
There was nothing he could do to keep his son from escaping the grips of cancer, but he was going to do everything he could to keep this tree alive in that boy's honor.
That shovel bearing the weight of a dad and his grief.
They are brothers, sons, daughters, and husbands. Eight trees now doing more than growing and giving us shade and fruit.
Eight trees set as a reminder of lives lived.
So we will water. To see life.