Is there such a thing as a dead tree ?

''This tree is dead, you need to hire a tree-cutter to remove it, it might be dangerous if it breaks''.

I cannot tell you how many times this well-meaning person said this. As much as I might have been on damage control mode lately, I must admit it is really low on my priority list. So I am a bit more irritated each time I hear this (yes, well meaning but nonetheless non-solicited) advice. It seems to bother him more than me. And no, this dark line you see in the picture is not a crack in the window. It is the tree that is the subject of controversy, and sufficiently enough to deserve to be featured in my blog)

True, the tree looks quite emaciated, not very vibrant most of the time. But is it really dead ? And why this urge to remove it, like a dark facial hair on an old woman's chin !!

To me, dead or not, it has actually become part of my immediate landscape. I look through the living room window so often that if it were not there, I would need some adjustment. I would feel disoriented from not seeing such a cue. And I cannot bear the sound of electric stuff (chainsaw, leaf-blower, lawnmower etc).

So in noble defense of my moribund tree, I decided to pay closer attention to it. To notice what I really appreciate about it. And what I observed was absolutely stunning.

There is... life. As evidenced by the green enveloping the quiet bark: the moss, and the leafy stuff growing around the stem.

I cannot bring myself to amputate this element of my landscape. The moss is important. So is the plant that decided to grow around it. And imagine all the invisible organisms, plants etc that also need this as scaffolding or source of some kind of nutrients, structure etc.

Maybe we should treat everything and everyone as if it were still alive until proven otherwise. Because as long as it is not decomposed, to me, it is matter, and matter has energy, even rocks. So this tree has been promoted to the statue of rock, or fossil, who knows.

Perhaps this tree is dying. But to quote one of my mentors and supervisors during residency, Dr Monday, ''Un mourant, c'est un vivant''. This was the first sentence he uttered during his unforgettable lecture when I was a medical student.

This tree might look fragile and scrawny. But after several years, it is still standing. And to me, that is a symbol of resilience that I can use as a daily source of inspiration. And it just occurred to me now that I ought to give this epic tree a name, so I decided to call it Hula, since with the green leaves it looks like it is wearing the traditional Hawai'ian skirt.

Thank you, Hula, for making my front yard look inviting and uniquely harmonious !