Old sycamore tree in the snow

I have loved the Sycamore tree at the cen­ter of this pho­to for 45 years. With its large white limbs reach­ing up in all direc­tions, it stands out against the hill­side behind it. This view is from our dri­ve­way, a scene I’ve enjoyed count­less times but, for some rea­son, nev­er photographed. 

In the after­noon sun the tree glows, a famil­iar bea­con at the bot­tom of the hill. I have stood under it look­ing up, admir­ing its twist­ing branch­es against blue skies. I have moved old limbs that it shed dur­ing storms from the road that runs next to it. 

Long ago the road was being improved, widened a lit­tle just before a sweep­ing curve. The road con­struc­tion com­pa­ny was tak­ing out all the larg­er trees along this sec­tion. Alarmed that that they might remove this mag­nif­i­cent tree, I asked the on-site super­vi­sor if it could be spared. To my sur­prise, he instruct­ed that it not be cut down. I’d like to think I had some influ­ence in that deci­sion, but I won­der if he, too, admired it and had already decid­ed to let it stand.

Earlier this month we had a few inch­es of snow. As I drove down our dri­ve­way, I thought the scene had nev­er looked more beau­ti­ful. I stopped and final­ly pho­tographed it.