The Barbados cherry will become a shorter plant today. Over the years it had managed to become a nice shrubby bush, about four feet tall. But the winters had been kind, with no freeze lasting more than a night, and even though a frost might bite it a bit it still managed to regenerate leaves along its spindly little branches. This year is different. Our week of hard weather in February took it to its roots.

I’ve waited patiently as the weather warmed to see if any of the branches would sprout leaves, but none came. There is plenty of growth along the ground, but that’s it. All the branches I can see are dry and brittle. I can nearly take them off with my bare hands. But I have a trimming tool and it will be quick and easy.  The upside is that I will be able to see exactly how the little shrub has propagated in the garden. It looks as though there are at least two or maybe three additions, although until I get to the ground it’s hard to tell if they’re by seed, or rooted branch. I’ll soon know.

The garden as a whole may benefit as well, because for at least one season the ground behind the little cherry will get the benefit of the morning sun, which is what happens when an older presence passes. A big tree falls, seedlings get sun and start growing to the light. Children move out of the shadow of their parents. An empire disintegrates and new cultures take its place. It seems a good lesson to remember. Nothing is forever and there is almost always something or someone waiting in the wings.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale