We are discussing trees - root systems, blight, fine pruning, what to do about the copper beech and pin oak, sapping each other's strength. You have surveyed and studied: what to remove, where to feed, which trees won't last, which need this or that kind of care. Planting your pencil firmly, you explain, with notes and diagrams. Your eyes speak common sense. Listening, I feel that choking creeper, anxiety, being stripped away by the fine edge of your decisiveness. Uncertainties fall like old leaves. Order appears attainable, as though amorphous thoughts and vague desires could be shaped into a coherent landscape. Like a strong cable, your enthusiasm runs between us, grounding me. I feel my own root system taking hold, my life branching toward the light.