My husband planted this tree many years ago after we created the patio space at our home in Lawrence. It was a small tree then, hardly a couple of feet high, similar in size to our two toddler daughters. On lovely days I now often recline with a book or notepad and gaze towards what this tree has become.

It now towers over all of us – maybe twenty feet into the air. I watch as the Spring gusts of wind barely impact a movement from its trunk, the proud tip swaying slightly. But what makes me smile is not its size but its shape; lopsided, the growth of one side hindered from being so close to another tree. And this helps me remember:

• To keep growing, even if I seem uncomfortably close to something that seems restrictive.
• That interesting is better than conventionally beautiful. Would I even notice this tree if it were proportionally shaped?
• To adapt, not shrink or blame.
• That there is strength in endurance, even when you feel off balance.

It wasn’t until I was typing this from my written notes that I realized that this is the second time I’ve posted featuring a tree (see Pleading With a Tree for Sandy). What should I infer from these recent topiary communings? I have no idea. But you can be sure I’ll be looking up.