When a memory is but a shadow

I took this photo in 2020, before the ice storm known as Snowvid killed a large number of trees in Texas the next year. I didn’t realize the importance of the photo at the time. My dog Annie is lying in front of the shadow of a beloved eucalyptus tree I called Eloise. This tree, which was quite large for a eucalyptus, a species that you don't see much in Central Texas, had become a great comfort to me, and I always felt calm beneath her branches. I never took a photo of her, alas, and so when Eloise died after the ice storm, this is my only photo of her. I remember her now as my first tree friend. I think of her every morning when I sit in the corner of the garden that she once shaded.

Here is the poem I wrote about Eloise the year before she died:

Trees That Talk in Tears

There is a tree I sit under sometimes
Because it offers shade on a hot day 
But also because I feel peaceful there
All I have to do is sit down and it comes
This state of mind I don’t feel elsewhere

One afternoon I was sitting there when
I felt some drops of moisture land lightly
On my forehead and I looked up surprised
To see just the bright sun and blue sky
And just a few thin shreds of clouds above

So where did these drops come from
If not from the bright blue sky
And I thought perhaps the leaves
Of the tree had been forced by the wind
To give up the moisture they had hoarded

But what if the tree “thought” perhaps 
I was thirsty or needed the water
And let its leaves willingly give it up 
Or even getting crazier about it
I wondered if trees could shed tears

Could this tree possibly be my friend?
Is it possible it enjoys my company?
Could the tree be sad or having a bad day?
Perhaps it was hinting that it was thirsty
So I brought the hose over to give it a drink

I would like to learn the language of trees
That talk to each other through their roots
Though my roots stop at the ground but 
I do trace my ancestry as a kind of tree
So perhaps we have that at least in common

Most of the language of trees aims at each other
Deep underground where there is much
Intimacy and generous sharing of resources
But what if, what if, what if, what if, what if
This blessed tree is trying to learn my language

And those drops falling from its leaves
Are a kind of Morse code, drip, drip pause
Are you there it is asking are you there
For me when I need you because there 
Will be times when we will need each other