The story of ‘Bu’ and a lesson in perseverance
Bu came to live with us in March 2005. He was a gentle, strong, meditative figure made of smoothly polished concrete. We named him “Bu” in honor of his Buddha-like presence. He was assigned surveillance duties over our house and front yard in Paradise, with a prime spot on the newly-landscaped 25-foot-long “Bu Mound” which I had designed and built.
His early life was uneventful.
He oversaw seasonal changes and growth of colorful Japanese Maple trees, jade plants,
Irish lilies, daffodils, junipers, and more. Rain and snow didn’t bother him one bit. He became our beloved, faithful companion over the years.
Bu was present after Dad died and Mom came to stay with us for six weeks in early 2007. He was there in mid2009 when my daughter passed away and we grieved. He was there when a 6-ft-tall windmill was added, and they looked great together among the lush landscaping. Our precious Bu saw a wide swath of Paradise life with friends coming and going, and dulcimer and guitar playing on the front porch.
He was there in 2012 with Jim’s “heart event” and my knee surgery, and my scary driveway fall in 2017. In August 2018, Bu was assaulted by a gigantic oak tree that fell across our yard right in front of the house. We dug him out from beneath branches, twigs, and dirt and were thrilled to discover that he was mostly unscathed. We celebrated Bu’s survival!
In September, Bu was there when Jim rushed me to the Feather River Hospital emergency room at 4 a.m. with chest pain, fearing a heart attack. That visit led to urgent diagnostics revealing that my heart was fine but, in fact, I was suffering from lymphoma tumors in my left lung. Very shortly I began treatment with immunotherapy and chemotherapy (successfully treated).
On November 8, 2018, the day of the Camp Fire, Bu saw us evacuate early in the morning. He was present while the horrific, massive fires spread aggressively and incinerated our beautiful home — along with most of Paradise and other towns nearby.
From our new, safe vantage point at a friend’s house in Chico, we wondered about our home. Did it survive?
No, it did not. Then in a few days we saw a crude photo of our flattened house and yard, with Bu still sitting proudly on his mound, surrounded by the devastation.
Soon we were living in a rented house owned by a local law enforcement person. When he learned about Bu — and our concerns that thieves might steal him — he surprised us by hand-delivering the very heavy, ash-covered, slightly scarred Bu to our waiting arms! We cleaned up Bu and awarded him a special spot next to the landlord’s koi pond. We reveled in the miracle of getting our beloved Bu back!
After we bought a new home three miles south of Paradise, Bu resided in the back yard in a makeshift grotto area of Camp Fire “survivors” including special rocks, a piece of broken windmill, and sculpture pieces. A little later we moved him onto the balcony where he was easily visible when we enjoyed our morning coffee or an outdoor evening respite.
Occasionally during the past few years my husband has commented that I could design and build a new “Bu Mound.” I declined repeatedly, insisting that “I’m too old now — I don’t have another Bu Mound in me.”
Recently, though, something shifted when I made a serendipitous connection with a highlyrespected local landscaper named Philip ho listened attentively when I described our old Bu mound. He offered, “I can help you build another one.” Thus we began!
With a hose, I laid out a rough perimeter. Philip took measurements and drew a map. I designed the layout and researched plants. A huge pile of dirt was delivered and shaped. I built a rock border around the 40-foot-long mound. Plants are currently being placed in the soil. Brown lava rock will be added to the mound’s surface, and light-colored gravel will cover the surrounding area. Stepping stones and small decorative bridge will be added.
Of course, Bu has been awarded a prime location surrounded by three small Japanese Maples and other special plants, including a graceful Pygmy Date Palm.
The fundamental message of this story is the survival and rebirth of a symbolic figure named “Bu.” But perhaps the REAL story is about the 80-year-old woman who survived and decided
“I’m NOT too old to do this again.”