When I look outside my balcony towards north, facing the horizon, I could see Grouse Mountain of North Vancouver. When it’s covered with snow on a beautiful sunny winter day like today, it’s spectacular. I feel like making a trip and climb the Grouse grind. Not. I cannot due to just being plain lazy. Then I look down below. Sigh. My beautiful tree is no longer there. I gave that tree a hug all the time. I love watching the squirrels going round and round the branches. The racoon checking out the tree at night for food. My winged friends make it their home to nest. When it starts to flower and seeds, so much pollen floating in the air. Much too much pinecones and don’t mind if I have to rake them out. The beetles in summer months come out at night. Lucy and Maurice the cats exercised their hunting skills. One year, Father Winter came with a vengeance, covered the tree with snowy splendor. And then… sad, the branches cannot carry the load of white powdery stuff. Needless to say, I bid goodbye to the tree and all I have left is this memory.