Shorn

The men who climb trees were here last week, and they left our oaks and gum and hollies tidy and pruned and shorn. 

It was a long-overdue task, given the branches that were hanging over the house and scraping the garage. But it leaves me feeling bare and exposed and doubtful of the shade we'll have this spring and summer.

It's all part of growth and renewal, removing the deadwood, but it reminds me too much of the way life is now: cutting back to the quick, to the most essential, learning how much we can do without. 

Which is why I'm hoping that the haircuts the trees received leave them with thicker and more elegant tresses come summer.