May 8

I have a Japanese maple in my backyard, probably around 50 years old. Its branches are wide open arms, offering shade and aphid spit to any who sit below it and a perfect climbing cradle to any who want to climb it. During the fall, we hang pinatas from it and kids scramble in its shadow, searching the grass for the treasures that were released from some well-landed blow. In the spring it produces these tiny yellow flowers that fall to the ground and are picked up by people shoes and dog feet to be tracked throughout my house. The red color in the leaves doesn't last for long; by summer it will be deep green, like all the other maples in the neighborhood.

I'm grateful for the presence of this tree. I know it sounds silly, but it's become a member of the family.