It is always disheartening to lose a friend, and I lost two this past week even though there was no undertaker involved. The sturdy oak in my front yard was a very good friend and so was the stately pine in the back.

Lightning took the oak and the drought, we guess, brought about the demise of the pine. Doesn't matter— when a tree goes, it is gone forever. Fortunately there are other trees, but losing a tree hurts which is why I have no respect for developers who can eliminate a tree without batting an eye.

You may have seen this vignette in this space before, but it bears repeating. When the Georgia Center for Continuing Education was built at the University of Georgia, the far sighted director, Hugh Masters, had it written in the construction contract that the developer would receive a stiff fine if any of the property's pecan trees were damaged or destroyed.

The building was constructed in a pecan orchard and all survive to this day including one which stands in the Center's courtyard. We can preserve and complement nature, more often than not, if we really want to.

You remember the shepherd who braved the wind and the cold to find the lost lamb! It didn't matter how many sheep he had, it was important to rescue the little lamb gone astray. That is how I felt about my tree friends. Like the lamb, a tree cannot be replaced.

Our kids played under the oak. They wrestled with their dog Dusty under its canopy of leaves. They enjoyed cookouts in the back yard with the big pine providing scented shade when its resin oozed through its bark.

Trees are noble. Trees are majestic. Until a powerful bolt of lightening found its way to our oak, it was a thing of beauty. It was sturdy and resilient. We are not sure of its age, but it had seen at least seventy birthdays.

As the pine was being taken down, I walked over to a young oak which stands nearby and paused in reverence. This oak is at least thirty years old. It reaches into the sky without any encumbrances.

There are no trees to compete with it as the pine did with a nice dogwood which probably will now flourish with the pine being taken away. Live and let live!

The pain of losing the oak and the pine was ameliorated by recalling the history of the young oak. When we moved in years ago, an active travel schedule kept me from cutting weeds out back. They were getting unsightly, and I became the victim of repeated threats to eliminate the mess.

As I proceeded to take care of business late one Saturday, I was pushing the lawnmower, which was huffing and puffing, though the heavy growth when I saw this tiny little tree, like an emerald among nondescript stones in my path. Quickly I turned the lawnmower aside, and the tree was saved.

Saving the life of the young oak years ago helps me cope with losing the oak and the pine.