Powerful essay, thanks! I particularly appreciated the too perfect orange trees along the 126. I still remember driving past the trees there and along the 118 the day I moved to Ventura County in 2012. I like the poetry of grief as a backyard orange tree:
“Grief, like this tree, doesn’t make sense. It has no use. It is planted in the wasteland and holds fast.”
My only addendum to the his would be to say that in my life grief has had an important use: clearing out to make way for new life and love. Grief is still a backyard orange tree that doesn’t make sense, but for me the chaotic and unpruned branches of grief have not been useless.
Ahh thank you Tim for reading 💜 I appreciate your reflections. Maybe grief in the present feels useless but its use is revealed with time. I like that word - pruning. And as your own Sarah reminded me, Maria here at the community believes the bitterness of these oranges make them good for medicine. 🍊
Powerful essay, thanks! I particularly appreciated the too perfect orange trees along the 126. I still remember driving past the trees there and along the 118 the day I moved to Ventura County in 2012. I like the poetry of grief as a backyard orange tree:
“Grief, like this tree, doesn’t make sense. It has no use. It is planted in the wasteland and holds fast.”
My only addendum to the his would be to say that in my life grief has had an important use: clearing out to make way for new life and love. Grief is still a backyard orange tree that doesn’t make sense, but for me the chaotic and unpruned branches of grief have not been useless.
Ahh thank you Tim for reading 💜 I appreciate your reflections. Maybe grief in the present feels useless but its use is revealed with time. I like that word - pruning. And as your own Sarah reminded me, Maria here at the community believes the bitterness of these oranges make them good for medicine. 🍊