Possible spots

H brought a tree home from Canadian Tire a few weeks ago. A bushy thing. I can't remember what kind. It was on sale and H thought it might look good in a pot by the door. Trees go in the ground, I said. It sat against the house in its little plastic pot until I decided where to put it. Decisions like that aren't easy in a yard that's all trees to begin with. It came down to four possible spots all within four square feet. Each spot had its drawbacks. Spring was getting on. Finally I sat in my chair and H stood over where the tree would go. Over, over more, I said. Here? he asked, poking the dirt with the spade. I nodded and H dug the hole of all holes and in it went. It was a mistake. Of course. Anyone could see that. I tried to live with its position. I tried for days. On the seventh day H dug the tree up and moved it eight inches east.