Handful of dust

There was a sweetgum tree in our backyard that was small when we built our house in 1983. Through the years, it provided shade, from the brutal summer sun and speckled autumn leaves that were beautiful. 

It had its downside too. The sweetgum tree was a species that took procreation to heart. Its seed pods looked like tiny spiked balls. They reminded me of the spike balls used as medieval torture devices. 

This tree dropped MILLIONS of them each year. When I ran over them with the lawnmower, it sounded like popcorn popping underneath.

Then about ten years ago, a storm swept through as they do from time to time and hurricane-force straight-line winds did Mother Natures dirty work. When the sun came back out, all the weak trees in our yard had blown down or been topped.  Part of the sweetgum tree fell on the roof of our house. 

We contacted a tree service and they came, taking down several trees that were damaged or leaning toward the house. The sweetgum was one of them.

Most of the trees were cut off at ground level leaving no stump, but I thought I might build a tabletop and use the trunk as the "legs" for the backyard table, so they left it waist high.

Well, the tabletop never happened, but we spent a lot of time in the backyard and used the tree trunk through the years for a variety of things. It seemed as though it would be here forever.

But then last year the bark began to peel off, and the wood that had seemed so solid was as soft as pulp.

Today after our walk, I sat for a while on the benches around the fire pit to cool off. I realized the sweetgum stump was returning to the earth. Pulling the phone from my pocket, I snapped a few pictures because I liked the contrast of color. Soon I'll bring the tractor up and move what's left of the old sweetgum tree to the pile of things to burn.

I know this is weird, but as I looked at this old stump, I thought about life. We are here for a while, and do some good work, but we can also be a pain in the butt at times. Then life hits you like a train. After you leave this old earth, all that's left are photographs, a few memories in the minds of those who love you, and a handful of dust.