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40 the widows’ handbook Learn to Love the Trees Ann McGovern I was city-bred and knew only weed trees. When we married, we moved to the country. Learn to love the trees, he said. Call them by name. He tacked labels on tree barks—sycamore, larch, maple, spruce. He taught me their names and I spoke to them. In the winter, they cut silhouettes, their smell was snowy sharp, their bark a harsh touch. One year he died on a windy, wintry night. My trees swayed and bowed and moaned till morning. I buried him in a box made from a pine. So now what is left of that tree? Without light and air, without someone calling its name? ...

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