the plum tree I planted still there (2021)

Composer note
After commissioning the composers for his “Inheritances” project, the pianist Adam Tendler sent us a beautiful essay he’d written about his father and the aftermath of his passing. Among the many images in it that moved me was this one, which lingered in my mind: “I went to the house where I grew up, where my dreams still take place, the lawn totally overgrown, the plum tree I planted still there and the blueberry bushes he once planted, once so bountiful that strangers would visit with empty containers to pick them, still separating our property from the next house…” After losing my father, I, too, visited the house where I grew up, approaching it through the woods behind our backyard so that I could see the Sycamore trees I climbed as a child while my father did yardwork in his cutoff jeans. There is something both surreal and grounding about visiting natural landscapes from our past. Trees and plants often keep growing even after we abandon them, after our loved ones depart, after we depart. This piece is a short meditation on the singular ache they can inspire. 

— Sarah Kirkland Snider