“The children ogled the empty houses and sagging porches, fascinated by the veil of abandonment that smothered everything around them.”

The trees stood silent, lining the street in stately rows. Survival was in their lineage. When the whipping winds, surging foodwaters, and battering rain had come, they had tightened their roots, clung to the dirt, and withstood their breaking stoically. They had been gravely dishonored—their majestic heights and impressive widths diminished, their boughs battered, their signs of growth erased. Now nature was parading some of its oddities before them.