Next week is Arbor Day. It doesn’t get as much commercial attention as, say, Valentine’s Day or Groundhog Day or Mother’s Day. But it’s very special to me, and here’s why:
Back on Arbor Day 1980, when my daughter was in first grade, she brought one of those itty-bitty evergreen shoots home from school. It was a scrawny little stick with some pine needles, maybe 6 inches tall, in one of those frozen orange juice containers, Minute Maid, I think. We’d only recently moved from the big city to the country and, I’ll admit, it was thrilling. And adorable. (“Oh how cute. She got a ‘tree’ to bring home from school.”)
With appropriate ceremony, we waited for a warm and sunny day. We dug a hole and stuck it in the ground. It didn’t take long, certainly not long enough for the glee we were feeling and our sense of the significance of the moment. Maybe we watered it after that, but I honestly can’t remember doing even that. Mostly we forgot about it, except for an occasional, “Honey, remember when….?”
Now, of course, I wish I’d planted 50 of them. It was so easy. It’s so beautiful. No muss, no fuss……. and now a tree where nothing stood before.
Actually, many of our plantings evoke that same “Remember when….” There’s the magnolia in front that I blogged about two years ago, or the apple tree planted in memory of my brother, or the trees — a maple and a pin oak — under which my- daughter-the-evergreen-planter got married. And on and on.
So … what are you waiting for?
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