Today the earth springs forth these green leaves; spring is upon us. I'm exhilarated by new birth, but at the same time, today nature suffered a painful loss. I haven't felt any indignation towards the ice storm as an entity up until now. Ten days without power and extra hours of school couldn't bother me nearly as much as the death of the magnolia tree at the end of my road. Every spring, magnolia flowers burst into full bloom and color, radiate beauty, and then wither and die, all within a week on the branches of this tree. The ice storm broke its branches and snapped off the twigs wherein hide the blossoms. Today the town of Holden cut down its little trunk and ground its stump into sawdust. In its wake lie the mass graves of its once vital limbs and the limbs of trees nearby. They are stacked in rectangular blocks and they sit waiting for the trucks to come and grind them into piles of yellow and brown dust. Because my magnolia tree died before it could invigorate this spring and every future spring with its efflorescence, I will mark March 31 as the elegy for the trees.
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