by 
This recent plein air painting brought back one of my most profound memories…
Several eccentric trees bordered the back yard of my childhood home. My favorite was a cool gray with wobbly branches that swept low so I could climb without much risk of injury.
One Spring day, a family member referred to it as “dead.”
I objected, citing the obvious signs of life: sprouting, yellow leaves. The family member reasserted their diagnosis and I silently held to my own.
Someone soon decided that the tree was too unstable and hired someone else to cut it down.
The stump never stopped sprouting leaves.
Our desperation for certainty is understandable.
…but it can hasten the conclusions of which we’re most afraid.
