Last week we began to wind down what has turned into a larger than expected landscaping project. Our guy Marty did the work, and has done wonders to make the approach to our property look much more presentable. One of the many things he did for us was to plant a lot of trees on the property. Last week he borrowed my landscape trailer and brought over about 200 evergreens and a few birches in various shapes and sizes that he’d been hired to clear from a nearby property. The larger ones I needed assistance to plant, but in the past week I probably planted 80 or 90 of the smaller ones myself. Now we have white, red, and scotch pines, several kinds of spruce (blue are my favorite), cedar, some willows, and some birches. We have also transplanted from the woods a few baby oak trees. Oaks are one of my favorites. I have only recently begun to genuinely appreciate the beauty of trees, and perhaps this is part of my stop-and-smell-the-roses transformation from the self-absorbed-constantly-rushed-stress-puppy I once was. Tree planting is very therapeutic and meaningful to both Shauna and me. On the lakeside of this house are three healthy maples - two planted by Shauna’s dad and one planted by her brother shortly before he passed in 2000. While nothing lasts forever, those trees are a reminder that Mother Nature will endure long after we are gone.
In the backyard of my childhood home in Buffalo there stands a giant Sycamore tree which I was told is one of the oldest in the city. I always thought of it as third base for our pickup softball games. In those difficult last years, when I was down visiting my parents near the ends of their lives, I remember looking out at that tree from my old bedroom window and deriving great comfort from its newly appreciated majesty. I hope the new owners can appreciate it as half as much as I learned to.
As Shauna’s parents reach the stage in their lives when they struggle to maintain their independence and dignity, once again with trepidation I watch the challenges that both parent and child must confront. I mentioned a few reports ago that for her birthday I purchased tickets for Shauna and her mom to see Barbra Streisand perform in Toronto. This might be Streisand’s last tour, making it all the more special. Both mother and daughter are huge fans, and it made me happy to give them this gift. Several days before the concert there was a heated disagreement over one of the ever-increasing issues of independence. I was worried that this might tarnish the mother daughter experience, and by extension, the memory I hoped to create. Thankfully, and a credit to both mother and daughter, they got past their differences, and last Tuesday they attended the concert together. I know they appreciated the experience. Music is one of the best and most memorable gifts. A tree was planted.
I have spent too much time disagreeing and harboring ill will towards others - family members, friends who disappoint me, complete strangers. Sometimes that ill will is a toxic byproduct of love, sometimes it’s not. I have been as guilty as most of these indiscretions, but I think I am getting better about letting the bad stuff go. Perhaps the trees I planted last week can soak up some of that poison. With “perfect Storm” Hurricane Sandy imminent, and the contentious elections a few weeks away, I take solace in trees.
Abandoned yellow Chevy, left along the side
Pink dusk paints the windows and there’s not a soul in sight
Who was the driver, on his desert drive
White lines on the highway a rhythm for my sight
A windmill in the distance is a ladder to the sky
And it’s so peaceful, on my desert drive
These monuments to nothing, but I’m looking for a sign
Looking for some answers, on my desert drive.
from Desert Drive (c1992)
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2012 All Rights Reserved
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