The Sleeping Trees of Memory #ThursdayTreeLove

The trees of memory, they are in their winter hibernation.  Because Skywatch Friday is tomorrow, I am writing my Veterans Day post early.

Today, on the 57th anniversary of my mother's passing, I remember the trees.  There was the crabapple tree that was planted just outside the entrance of the apartment building in the Bronx (part of New York City) where I grew up.  Each May, I think of its beautiful blooming in a city of eight million people.

Now, crabapples line the street that intersects the street I live on, and other streets in this area. Bare now, they brighten the streets they are planted on each May.

My father was a veteran of World War II.  He served in non-combat roles as an airplane mechanic and also a military policeman in the Army Air Corp and had various postings, including one in India.  He returned home prematurely due to a head injury that left him suffering from seizures the rest of his life.

Memories...

When I was young, we would get mailings from various organizations, imploring us to send money to plant trees to honor a deceased loved one.

The weeping willows along Seneca Lake near Geneva, New York that commemorate the war casualties of World War I.  In many countries (France, Belgium, Australia, among others) November 11, the anniversary of the ending of that war,which we call Veterans Day here, is called Remembrance Day.

Here is one Canadian blogger's thoughts on Remembrance Day.  We in the United States do not pay enough attention to the fact that many of our allies have suffered in wars where we fought side by side.

Walking in our local park, I saw this oak tree glowing in the setting sun on Sunday.  The color is gone now, but the memory remains.  Soon, this tree will be fast asleep, too.

They bring back memories of snow, cold, and biting winds, the chill of winter that is about to descend upon us after a stretch of beautiful fall weather.

This Northern cardinal (this photo taken last year on Christmas Eve) is a symbol, where I live, of deceased loved ones sending love and positivity to you.  Yesterday, I saw both a male and a female cardinal sitting on this fence looking at me. 

Each Veterans Day (as we call Remembrance Day or Armistice Day in the United States I publish the poem "In Flanders Fields".  This year, I link to our own Veterans Administration for the history of this poem and why poppies have become the Flower of Remembrance.

In Flanders Fields by John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly.
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Poppy, Riverside Drive, Binghamton, New York

May all our loved ones forever rest in peace-our beloved family members, our friends, and those lost in war. 

Joining Parul at Happiness and Food for #ThursdayTreeLove.