Those living in warmer climates may be familiar with trees commonly referred to as crepe myrtles.  They bloom in varying shades of pink and also in white and purple.  The front of our house is lined with them and I take just as much pleasure enjoying their blooms in summer as I do their barks in winter.  Each year they grow a little mightier.  A lot of the United States experienced more climate change this past year when much of the Deep South and Southwest was blanketed in almost an entire week’s worth of ice and snow totaling in feet; not inches.  Power workers raced to get limbs off lines while millions were left without electricity.  I know northerners poke fun at the lower states because we tend to shut everything down when it snows.  However we are just not equipped with tire chains, sand trucks, and snow plows.  My father and mother taught me there was always something for which to be grateful.  My little family was so fortunate!  For starters we had hot water, electricity, and a wood burning fireplace.  Now that it’s spring we are starting to see some damage we could not catch earlier.  We have dead limbs, trees leafing out weird, and even one little tree that just couldn’t make it.  It could have been so much worse, and we are incredibly thankful.  Owning a home and having a yard, to me, is a privilege.  This is the only house I have ever lived in, which has been as many years as our marriage.  Right away I started naming the trees, shrubs, and plants.  So we have Big Ash out in our front yard (he is just as his name implies, and is about 40.)  There’s Bud out back (a red bud loosely around about fifteen), and Rosario, our stunning old fashioned bush that blossoms red spray roses which smell like heaven.  Mr. Figgy (our fig tree) died a few years back, God bless him.  When he had to be removed he literally left behind a heart shaped bark, which we still have in our garden to this day.  There’s Laurel (our Laurel tree) and Star, our jasmine which entwines herself gracefully all along the side of our house between our fence of iron and stone.  She is one of my favorites, as her sweet scent perfumes the air all around us on hot summer nights.  We have Cypress and Cyrus who are evergreen (Cypress trees).  I particularly love Asian plants, and we have Mabel the Japanese maple and my beloved MiMi, our Mimosa tree who fans herself out delicately over our koi pond with her pink, puffball blooms each summer.  Whomever starting pronouncing there were “trash” trees is awful in my book.  We are blessed to live next to a creek and I suspect some of our trees “volunteered” themselves long ago.  I enjoy watching the birds get buzzed on our Chinaberry trees each autumn.  And I don’t care:  I love Barry our Hackberry tree.  He is large and tall and provides excellent shade for our home.  We also have Ivy and Fern, as well as Lily and Iris in our pond … but dear reader thank you for sticking with me this long.  I promise I shall not subject you to to naming every living flora we have.  My tastes in landscaping run toward the unplanned “natural” look.  As much as I ADORE Versailles, no topiaries or stringent lines for me in my little garden.  I am only fluent in two languages, so I am always delighted when I attempt to joke in another one — and it is understood!  The picture you see is looking down our row of crepe myrtles which have yet to bloom.  Can you tell the first one has been SERIOUSLY pruned?  It could not be helped; Jack Frost got her.  Still, it pains me to see things “butchered,” and so I was telling our tree crew that what they were doing was considered “crepe murder.”  To my great pleasure, four men’s faces split into wide grins, accompanied by laughter.  Best of all they understood I wasn’t accusing THEM; I realized it had to be done.  Saint Basil once said, “A tree is known by its fruit; a man by his deeds.  A good deed is never lost; he who sows courtesy reaps friendship, and he who plants kindness gathers love.”  I always strive to reap friendship and to gather love.