My husband keeps mentioning that he wants to cut down two large trees in our front yard. The shade from the trees blocks the sunlight which, in turn, keeps sections of our yard brown and ugly. Normally, I’d be agreeable to removing any obstacles that hinder light as I love bright sunshine. In fact, I prefer wide-open fields to a forest of trees. But I’ve grown attached to the two trees just outside our palladian window.
I’ve sat in the same spot in our dining room, in front of the window, for several years as I write. Often, the trees have been a source of inspiration. I’ve stared at full branches, as well as bare. I’ve watched birds land on them. I’ve witnessed squirrels scampering across them.
Recently, as I look at the trees, I’ve been asking myself what’s more important: a source of inspiration or light for growth.
If we cut down the trees, or at least the low-hanging branches, our grass will grow and our yard will look luscious and healthy. If the trees remain as they are, sections of our yard will continue to be brown and its growth hindered.
I’ve talked about compromising. Maybe we could cut down one tree and only trim the branches on my favorite tree. Still, we’re not sure that’s sufficient to let in enough light.
I wonder if the trees I’m so attached to and depend upon, which block sunlight and also happen to block my view, are a hindrance to something better. What if cutting them down not only allows enough sunlight to grow grass, but opens up a view to something I can’t see otherwise?
Am I willing to pay the price for the greater good? What if I let go of my attachment to the trees, to the view, to my inspiration, only to discover cutting down the trees does no good? What if the grass doesn’t turn green? What if there’s not a better view? It’s a risk I’m not sure I’m ready to take.
Don’t all good things in life come with a risk? Don’t we have to give up one view to take in another? Don’t we have to let go of our attachments and comforts before we can grow?
