Photo: Victoria Slotto
Ash Tree, Barren
Haibun—Wabi Sabi
The ash tree that we planted, probably twenty years past, flourished until a few years ago. She not only offered the loveliness of her leaf-laden branches, she protected us from late afternoon sun and winds that howl from the west through Sierra Nevada’s Donner Pass. In autumn, she sheds dazzling gilt foliage and in spring an eruption of lime green buds poke out of her apparently dead branches.
A couple of years ago, after five years of severe drought, many of the branches failed to show growth. The dire shortage of rain, coupled with water restrictions, took their toll. This year, we had dead limbs removed and our tree is spouting out limbs from the places you would least expect.
harsh summers take toll
water, source of leaf-life, fails
on dead branch finch sings
This week I’m hosting dVerse Haibun Monday. The theme is Wabi-Sabi: the Japanese concept of imperfect beauty. To learn more please head over to dVerse, read the prompt and links offered, and add a poem of your own. Have a blessed week. The link will be open till Saturday.
Victoria C. Slotto, Author 
Oh how joyous that there was still life and that the tree flourishes. Kanzensakura is quite right it is also a good metaphor for ourselves too.
LikeLike
Really vivid concrete description!
LikeLike
Wonderful ode to natures ancients.Growth can come from unusual directions.
LikeLike
Pruning should help and guide growth. Nice description of the relationship you have with your ash tree.
LikeLike
And yet the finch sings. Too true. I have a dead willow growing across the track in front of my house. Drought and a main root were disturbed by a big tractor unfortunately. A woodpecker is busy making a home and it is a resting place for all sorts of birds in the area. So it’s staying up.
LikeLike
I love any story or poem about tree, Victoria. I’m so happy that your ash tree is ‘spouting out limbs from the places you would least expect’ and the finch is singing.
LikeLike
Your Haibun of renewal speaks to me of the reward of waiting for new growth. The finch would agree
LikeLike
Isn’t nature amazing? It never gives up. I love the addition of the finch in the haiku. Nice work!
LikeLike
Nature never stops trying, does it? Very nice haibun and I especially like the addition of the finch to the haiku.
LikeLike
Around here, even in clearcut hillsides, there is new growth out of the center of dead, long dormant stumps; a stirring sight. Your ash tree is family–as is everything that breathes within your reach or purview. Thanks for hosting today.
LikeLike
One day I shall see those beautiful autumn colours. A lovely haibun.
LikeLike
Trees have marvelous rejuvenation qualities. A young Chinese elm tree my mother had planted was split in half in a storm. My father bolted it together and it continued to flourish for years! I wish the same for your ash.
LikeLike
The last line of the haiku says it all 🙂
LikeLike
So beautiful a thought. Yes, we can expect new growth, after the drought…if it isn’t killed. So, the old saying, “You will be stronger if it doesn’t kill you.”
LikeLike
I enjoyed the story of your ash tree ~ The beauty through the seasons and removing the dead limbs, strike me ~ But there is hope for life, with the finch singing ~ Thanks for hosting Victoria ~
LikeLike
A lovely haibun Victoria and when we prune the dead branches of a tree she will often flourish again from new places and you have shown that so beautifully here xxx
LikeLike
A wonderful haibun. I love the ending haiku….on dead branch the finch sings. For the dead shall sprout new branches….and green shall come forth.
It is amazing that a tree will grow again, come back from the near dead. I think also of the forests covered in ash and dead blackened tree stumps and then, after a season of rain, there comes small growth, small slips of green peeking through the black ash covered ground.
LikeLike
Oh my Victoria. This is incredible. The haiku is perfection and serene. I love your ash tree although I have never met her. I hope she continues to flourish with the pruning. Sometimes, in order to flourish, we have to cut the dead bits off ourselves as well.
LikeLike