The Trees That Were, or, I Hope You Step On a Lego
A couple years ago, in better days, Mocksville’s center square was graced with four massive, majestic, old trees. They were stately and beautiful, and gave the town a sort of grace unknown to other concrete metropolises. They were filled with lights during the winter, illuminating the square with Christmas magic. In summer they shaded our cars and our town festivals, and brought green relief from the asphalt heat. In short, we loved them. Then The Person In Charge gave the…