Warm rain drops plunked heavily from the leaves of the firs and poplars, a late summer shower was moving in, and now the residents of the forest took to the cover of the leaves and logs. The old tulip tree sighed, it was getting tired. It had leaned over the Blue River for over seventy years, its roots growing strong and deep into the silty bank, giving shelter to the muskrats, turtles and other river dwellers.

A breeze kicked up turning all the green leaves in the woods upside down, showing their silver underbellies. The old tree moaned softly as a limb cracked near its crown. Thunder rumbled off in the distant hills, telling the tree fare-well, and white-hot lightning cracked its whip, sending the tulip tree to a watery grave, in the shoals of the Big Blue River.

The water gurgled around the fallen tree, greedily engulfing it, and in the rain, the cold, wet rain, an oriole sang a sad good-bye.