Toward the end of March, I was enjoying springtime at my heavily wooded weekend country home in the rolling backwoods of southern Mississippi. The winter ryegrass was at its peak, brown tree limbs on the beech, white oak, blackjack oak, and sweet gum trees were all sprouting fresh green leaves. The woods were speckled with blooming dogwoods, honeysuckle, azaleas, and wisteria. The atmosphere and view were breathtaking. The cypress trees were particularly interesting, because they, too, were sprouting their fuzzy, stringy green leaves—all except one.
Last summer, I noticed through the brush a very tall cypress tree. I could only see the upper portion while standing on my raised porch. The brush and undergrowth surrounding the beautiful trunk made it difficult to see the lower twenty feet of the tree. I decided to clear away all the brush around this magnificent trunk, so that the full tree could be seen, appreciated, and receive more sunlight. I went to work with my chainsaw, brush mower, and hand clippers, until I could see the full tree. I expected that its new growth in the spring would be most evident after the scraggily brush was removed.
The cypress trees in my swamp on this beautiful spring day, and those growing along the river bank near my house, exhibited their beautiful red brown bark and new green leaves; however, the one tall cypress that I had freed from the underbrush had no leaves. My friend Alvin remarked that the tree was definitely dead. As I looked up, it was hard to argue with him, because a cypress tree just ten feet away was full of new leaves, in stark contrast to this one tall, naked tree.
