Alfred's Story

I was staring at the palm tree on our back patio yesterday contemplating Emily's assurances that Mark would be able to "knock the bird's nest out of the tree... he can jump really high," when I realized that this tree didn't have a name yet. Already he has become such a big part of our lives. We get the pleasure of the sound of the wind through his leaves. We get the taste of coconuts from his fruits. We enjoy the sights of a bird family building, birthing, growing up and flying away. How could he not have a name?

It made me think of Alfred.


I first met Alfred when I met Mark. At the time Mark lived in a 100 year-old farm house in Virginia and Alfred lived on the property - but had definitely been there for over one hundred years. Alfred was a maple tree and he was very, very tall. At least 200 feet high. I named Alfred immediately after my Grandfather. He had the exact same personality as my Grandad had... quiet, kind, strong.


I told Mark's stories of Alfred's unrequited love of the pretty, young and supple tree leaning over his house some 30 feet away from Alfred's reaching branches. Alfred could never quite touch her. Mark boosted me up to his lower branches so I could climb him. We hung Emily from his branches and let her swing. We picnicked in his shade. And on one hot summer night slept on a blanket on the lawn under his protection. Alfred was a very lovely tree.


Early one morning I got a distressed call from Mark. A hurricane had hit Virginia the night before. Mark had not slept well so he couldn't believe, and was very upset, that he had never heard Alfred fall. He had broken right at his base and toppled to the ground.


We decided that Alfred deserved more than a bunch of unfeeling brutes barging in with a huge truck and a chipper, so off we went to buy a chain saw. We would lay Alfred to rest all by ourselves. And amazingly Alfred kept on giving.

Mark and I spent many happy hours bundling and wrapping kindling and stacking logs. Some of my favorite memories of Mark and Emily's developing relationship are from when they used to tramp down nightly to Alfred to sit on his fallen trunk and watch the sun set (with me smiling quietly at the bedroom window.) We made Emily a horse and a cool, secret fort in his fallen branches.

When Mark sold his property we knew that the buyers would be knocking down the farm house to build a 10,000 square foot Mcmansion. We also knew that what was left of Alfred would go to. Over many, many trips we stacked Alfred in to my station wagon and drove him to our new home. Our whole first year of living together as a family was warmed every night by the glow of Alfred burning in the fireplace.

I am so sad that I can't find any pictures of Alfred in his full majestic glory. But here he is during the bittersweet summer that we lost him. Thanks Alfred!