Some time ago one Jean A. Jones recorded the love(s) of her life upon the bark of this beech tree.
It stands at the bottom of Laurel Lane on the left, where the old clearing begins in the backyard.
It reminds me of something I saw years ago, scrawled on a slimey bus shelter wall in Ireland:
Rem dat I [heart]What is it makes us want to memorialize the 'love of our life', even though the memorial itself demonstrates our infidelity?
Jason, Sean, Michael, Anthony 4-EVER!!!!