On my (almost) daily walk with the pooch I've been keeping my eyes on a pair of ficus trees on a sweet street in the neighborhood. A while back they were brutally chainsawed at mid trunk. I've never really understood the point of this sever trimming--the trees were full and mature with lovely white bark and shiny deep green leaves. Why hack them up? The stumps were left long, so obviously it wasn't a "just get rid of them" job. Or was it, but performed by an inept gardener? I didn't know what the tree trimming was all about, but I didn't like it. The trees made me melancholy. Lonely, long stumps with a brown, ugly top. I would force myself to try not to look as I passed them. But I did look, because I was rooting for them. And then one day I noticed that the pair had started to sprout at it's scar. Fresh, bright green leaves poking out. Where I once passed these trees and felt sad, I now pass them and laugh a bit. They are ridiculous looking. And resilient. Maybe that gardener knew what they were doing after all. Or didn't realize that the hatchet job would just make the trees stronger.