The oldest tree in the yard has belonged to several people’s idea of home.

A house passes through hands faster than the things growing beside it. The tree that was already there when you arrived stood over other people’s mornings, other children, other arrivals and departures, and it will do the same after you. You do not own it so much as take a turn with it. That is quietly consoling once you stop expecting a place to be yours alone.

Find out, if you can, who was there before you and what the garden looked like then. And when you plant something, plant at least one thing whose good years will mostly belong to somebody you will never meet.