Tree Time

Soon after we moved into our home in 2009 we began planting trees. White oaks resistant to oak wilt:  Chinquapin, Lacy, and a single Bur. Unfortunately, drought years followed. We lost trees, planted new ones, and lost them again. It was a bit of a struggle, but we managed, helped along by a goodly number of wet years. Now, we’re pruning trees to arch over the drive and give me headroom as I mow. They’re starting to look stately.

The other day, I stood beside the oldest cinquapin in the front yard by the north fence. It has always done well for some reason. Good breeding, I guess, and a sweet spot in the ground. The trunk is thick, and I can no longer circle it with my hands, and when I try it feels heavy and robust, and only the wind can shake it. The foliage is dark green and full. Mostly it has concentrated on growing up, but now I’ve noticed it is starting to spread its limbs, reach out, cover more ground.

It made me happy as I stood beside that tree to know how well it had done since we put it in the ground. I also knew it likely was going to be around for the long haul and I was glad I was going to be here for some of it. And I was happy I brought it to this place and put it in the ground, partnering up with a tree. And I wonder, if I only had one job to do in this life, that maybe planting one tree was a good thing to have accomplished. No one will write a story about me, but the world will know, or at least this part of it.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale