Can you mourn the end of an era when you weren't there for the beginning? That's what I wondered on the bright, frigid morning of December 19 as I took a run at Shelburne Farms, zipping up the walking path from the entrance to the inn and back.

On my way, I saw something that chilled me even more than the scathing wind. I'd already heard that the majestic Eastern Cottonwoods of Poplar Drive were slated to be removed; that the trees were dead or dying and increasingly posed a hazard to passersby. But I'd put the news out of my mind, as we often do with unwelcome news we can't change.