We have finally gotten to that point in this part of the country where we are seeing a substantial amount of green outside. I always seem to misremember just when to expect the leaves to start growing on the trees; I think that starts earlier than it does. Now, finally, trees are beginning to grow leaves, and the grass is turning a healthy shade of green, at least where it’s being maintained. The paradox of Michigan’s highways — that the grass beside them can look so vibrant while the roads themselves are scarcely maintained at all — never hits me harder than it does at this time of year. I’m teaching an online course this coming term, though, and I won’t have classes up in Monroe until 2010 at the earliest, so if I want to ponder that paradox in person, I’ll have to make a special trip to do so. With gas prices climbing back up, I doubt that’s going to happen.

Right now, though, I’m kind of struck at how the trees in my backyard are blooming. In my bedroom I basically have two stations: Here at my computer, where I work, do recreational Internet stuff, and eat most of my meals; and my bed, where I sleep, write in my longhand journal, read, and play video games. From my computer here I’m looking to the northwest, and most of the trees in this direction have either not started budding leaves yet, or are doing so very slowly. From my bed I’m looking to the northeast, and there all of the trees are very much in bloom. I’ve noticed over the past few days that my mood seems to improve if I’m doing stuff on my bed as opposed to here at my computer workstation; I suppose that could just be because winter term is over and I finally have more "bed time" available, but I don’t doubt that seeing more fresh leaves on the northeast of our property probably plays a good part in that as well.

Earlier this week, Mom brought someone over to estimate how much it would cost to remove some trees from the north of our property. We have this one huge tree in our backyard that has been dead for several years, and Mom is worried about the tree either being hit by lightning and coming down on us, or falling down on its own accord. If that were to happen, anyone on the second floor at the time would likely be crushed to death, and the tree might generate enough force to crash down into the ground floor as well. I guess I don’t feel too strong of an attachment to the tree because I grew up in a room with windows facing the north and west, so I didn’t see the tree that much from my room, and the tree is also very far back in the backyard, farther than I used to play when I was younger. I think Mom’s also going to have smaller trees, also dead, removed from the property at the same time as the big tree is removed. As much as I know that this will make us safer, I still can’t help but wish that we could keep the tree. It’s the only tree I can see from both of my stations up here, and as scarily big and high as it is, I can’t help but feel like the tree, in its way, watches over us. Its presence reassures me in its own way, and I don’t like to think about what the view from my room will be like when it’s gone.