Requiem for the Trees: 8/11/2021

After the storm

Tuesday night’s storm flashed lightning in its angry eyes, bringing an awe-inspiring deluge upon the streets of Evanston. Dusty roads blossomed into new river channels, flowing heavily with murky water. Everything from delicate branches to firmly rooted trees tumbled under her force.

The next day, swathes of the city were without power. On the Lakefill, three large willows lay uprooted around the water. I had once reclined under these trees, rejoicing in the shade of their drooping limbs. They had given me respite during many a stressful day, provided me privacy as I sat with a book. I had walked by all three countless times, watching the blackbirds call from their branches, seeing young green herons in the junipers beyond. So many decades of life lay toppled after one storm. But sitting next to one of the fallen, I realized that the willows continued to buzz with life, sustaining others far after their untimely demise. Empty bird nests and shelf fungi lay scattered around the wreckage, but wasps and dragonflies fluttered around the roots. Birds hopped between the horizontal maze of twigs. The beaver den nearby was full of fresh willow branches pulled from the debris to munch on. The cycles of the world made sure that the willows were not posthumously wasted, and I could only hope that they wouldn’t be removed too quickly from the primly-manicured Lakefill.