I Married a Beech Tree

We have long known that women go through a Change of Life when they reach a certain age. Traditionally, we expect them to become moody, burst into uncontrollable crying jags and suffer hot flashes and sleepless nights. Men in our society also go through a change of life. We expect them to change jobs to something they view as more fulfilling, buy a sports car, or take up with some sweet young thing to hold on to their youthful image of themselves. My husband has always been a little nutty, but until this weekend, I didn't realize what kind of nut he was. Here is my confession: I married a Beech Tree. Yes, under the magic of the full moon, he has put down roots at Bernheim Forest and lets his branches sway in the wind. He won't come into the kitchen any more because he is afraid of knives marking his bark. He is very proud that he grows in rich soil, but mourns the loss of his ancestors to the pioneers as they cleared the forest for their farms. I have absolutely forbidden him to let any pigs or deer into the house searching for beechnuts. He no longer asks for a peanut butter sandwich, but says "beechnut butter" is healthier. Some of his friends at Bernheim also changed into trees over the weekend, but I understand that they are devolving back into their human, two-legged selves. I guess as these things go, it could be worse. After all, he didn't mind when the cats played in his leaves on the porch, and raked and vacuumed after himself. But it is hard getting him into a car without closing the door on his roots.