{"id":4208,"date":"2013-04-07T12:34:06","date_gmt":"2013-04-07T19:34:06","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.bigjimindustries.com\/wordpress\/?p=4208"},"modified":"2013-04-14T12:39:58","modified_gmt":"2013-04-14T19:39:58","slug":"bill-hayes-a-year-in-trees","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bigjimindustries.com\/wordpress\/2013\/04\/07\/bill-hayes-a-year-in-trees\/","title":{"rendered":"BILL HAYES: A Year In Trees"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.nytimes.com\/2013\/04\/07\/opinion\/sunday\/a-year-in-trees.html\" target=\"_blank\"><em>from The New York Times<\/em><\/a><\/p>\n<h1 itemprop=\"headline\">A Year in Trees<\/h1>\n<p><strong>By\u00a0BILL HAYES<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" itemid=\"http:\/\/graphics8.nytimes.com\/images\/2013\/04\/07\/sunday-review\/07TREE\/07TREE-articleLarge.gif\" itemprop=\"url\" alt=\"\" src=\"http:\/\/graphics8.nytimes.com\/images\/2013\/04\/07\/sunday-review\/07TREE\/07TREE-articleLarge.gif\" width=\"468\" height=\"312\" border=\"0\" \/><br \/>\n<br \/><em>Rebecca Mock<\/em><\/p>\n<p>SOMEONE asked me the other day how I had gotten over the sudden death of someone I loved. What I wanted to say but found myself unable to explain (for it would have sounded too strange) was that I learned a good deal about moving through grief from some trees I once knew. They were not my trees. I didn\u2019t plant them. I lived in an apartment surrounded by them. The only tending done was to give them my full attention over the course of four seasons.<\/p>\n<p>When I moved in it was April, still cold, and the branches were bare. Facing northeast, my view of Manhattan was unobstructed, seen through a latticework veil. There were five trees, each distinct. They were not beautiful. My next-door neighbor, a landscape designer, told me that the species, Ailanthus altissima, is an urban weed. But I never expected beauty. That they were tall and strong and present was enough. I found that Ailanthus derives from an Indonesian word meaning \u201ctree of heaven.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>I didn\u2019t cover the windows with shades or curtains. I would wake with the sun and lie in bed and watch the tree limbs for a minute. Some mornings, the branches looked as if they were floating on wind drafts, as light as leaves. With a stormy sky, they turned black and spindly, like shot nerve endings.<\/p>\n<p>Two years had passed since my longtime partner\u2019s death, and though I had largely adjusted to his absence, I still experienced intense pangs of grief \u2014\u00a0<em>painful unpleasure<\/em>, in Freud\u2019s exquisite phrase. At times, I\u2019d be tempted to take out old photos, just to look, just one picture, just for a minute, like a junkie on the verge of relapsing. But I resisted. I had seen the trees stand up to strong winds and hold their own against the elements.<\/p>\n<p>[ <a href=\"http:\/\/www.nytimes.com\/2013\/04\/07\/opinion\/sunday\/a-year-in-trees.html\" target=\"_blank\">click to continue reading at NYTimes.com<\/a> ]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>from The New York Times A Year in Trees By\u00a0BILL HAYES Rebecca Mock SOMEONE asked me the other day how I had gotten over the sudden death of someone I loved. What I wanted to say but found myself unable to explain (for it would have sounded too strange) was that I learned a good [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":26,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[3,4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4208","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-culture-art","category-literary-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bigjimindustries.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4208","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bigjimindustries.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bigjimindustries.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bigjimindustries.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/26"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bigjimindustries.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4208"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bigjimindustries.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4208\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bigjimindustries.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4208"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bigjimindustries.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4208"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bigjimindustries.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4208"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}