There is a tree on my street that took a risk in April.
April in the Northeast, as you may know, unevenly and unpredictably divides her days. Deep winter this morning, bright dripping thaw that morning, snow – and lots of it – after that. There are no assurances.
This three-story tall tree had been leafless and looked lifeless since early December. In the wind, its bare branches would scratch and knock at my window as if it wanted to be let in.
Miserable. The tree on my street seemed miserable.
And then it happened. One day in uneven, unpredictable April, the tree risked it. As a cold morning shifted into a cold afternoon, the tree began to bloom. Began to bloom green and fierce.
Began to bloom as if to say, This is a risk, yes. But it’s a bigger risk not to.
Like those words I’ve always loved from Anaïs Nin – “And then the day came, when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to Blossom.”
And that tree blossomed to save its life. It blossomed its green and fierce blossoms. And when it did, I swear it lit up the whole street.
So, there are no assurances in April in the Northeast. But there was one tree on my street that risked the winter to bring in the spring.