Cutting Away the Dead Wood

This is what our kitchen dooryard looked like when we moved in. 

Step 1 was to move the garbage out from under our bathroom window. WTF? 

This picture was taken quite a bit earlier in the day than the next picture, so the light is coming from higher in the sky and the pecan is shading the area (yes, other trees are, too).

Step 2 was cutting down the pecan tree that was there shading the kitchen window, looming over the roof with it's heavy branches. Despite the missing pecan tree (and garbage can) the dooryard is still in shade in this photo. It is much, much better now. More sunshine, more light. It was late afternoon when I took this picture.

Obviously, we (meaning mostly Mark and Travis) have been doing a lot of clearing since we moved back to Four Oaks. The men take down the trees. I am in charge of weeds and saplings. Right now all our work has changed weedy and overgrown to bleak and barren. It's kind of awful looking in our side yard these days.

Our social lives are a bit of the same. We moved. In the process a lot of the dead wood was trimmed from our social circle. Things were looking a little barren for a while there, too. We all know what happens when you prune or cull, it makes room for more beautiful things to grow, which is why we do it. For humans growth can be and often is painful. It has been for Mark and I but we have also grown closer to one another, more loving. Our relationship is one of the beautiful things that has seen new and vigorous growth since our move. We had hoped this would be so.

This process of change, of movement, has been difficult and enlightening. For me it means time to meditate, a gym close by, my husband for lunch. It means friends for Martina and proximity to classes we couldn't attend when the drive was much longer. For Mark it means a 5 minute commute, down by 50 minutes! As unsettling as the changes have been, we have discovered a new and more beautiful center for our family, new and beautiful friendships that we hope will be real and long lasting, and a closeness with our children that we missed before we made the room for things to grow.