I can’t remember a time that I didn’t love trees. The first poem I ever wrote was about a tree. “I look out my window and what do I see, The birds and the bees and a bright green tree”. I was six years old.
I imagine that mom instilled the value of trees in me because she had lived through the Dust Bowl of the 30’s here on the Oklahoma plains. On the first farm my parents owned, they planted a shelterbelt of tiny elm seedlings that were free from the USDA. Watering them from a tank in the back of an old pick-up on hot summer evenings seemed like a fun family activity to my sister and me, but I imagine it was a tiresome job for our folks.
Early in our married life on our own first farm, Bob and I planted 60 three foot tall arborvitae in hard clay soil. I nearly lost a leg in the process, however, to a post-hole digger on the back of our tractor. My quick-reacting and strong husband saved me by jumping off the tractor and lifting me out of the whirling blade, leaving behind only my right boot, long-underwear, and jean leg! I escaped with a few stitches and a new appreciation and fear of 3-point hook-ups.
I think one of the reasons we moved to Colorado to ranch later was our mutual love for trees, mountains, and cattle. At Christmas time I could take an ATV and a chainsaw into the woods behind our home and cut my own fresh tree. What would it be this year: pine, fir, or spruce? No more stickery dry red Oklahoma cedars in our living room!
Unfortunately the tourists all loved the Colorado forests and scenery too. As ranch country began to fill up with housing developments and little “ranchettes ”, land prices rose and grazing permits decreased. This, combined with the cattle market crash of the early 80’s, renewed our appreciation for the more open and lonely plains with their easy calving weather and year-round grazing. So back to Oklahoma we came.
When we bought our second homestead here, there were only 8 old elms and 3 locust trees on a huge expanse of Bermuda and buffalo grass, so we began planting again. Cedars, pines, arborvitae, hackberry, Osage orange, oaks, ornamental pear, bald cypress, maple, American elm, Chinese Pistache, mimosa, cherry, redbud, yew, plum, dogwood, althea, euonymus, forsythia, crape myrtle, and a multitude of shrubs. This time we were smarter (lazier?) and rented a big hydraulic tree spade for the cedars and arborvitae.
Well, after 17 years now here on the plains again, I have my wish…I live in a forest. It is beautiful around here, but guess what? I’m beginning to yearn for good Bermuda grass again! The tree roots and shade have killed a lot of our lawn and the alternative shade grasses seem too time consuming and expensive to plant and maintain with our rural water system. And riding a nice zero-radius mower is lots easier than the continual fertilizing, spraying, pruning, and stick pick-up that trees require!
So I guess that this side of heaven, I’ll never be completely satisfied. Maybe I need to remind myself that some day even the trees of the field will clap their hands and praise the Lord and I will have been responsible for planting some of that praise!
Isaiah 55:12 and Ezekiel 17:24
Sitting in the shade,
DeAnna
Beautifully written! I can't think of a year that has gone by that I haven't yearned for the amazing trees I grew up with in Michigan. I remember going on long walks with my dad. He is a huge tree lover. The walks always consisted of a tree quiz along the way. There are so many varieties in the great lakes region I could never pass. The first thing he did after we moved to Kansas, on bare lot, was to plant a large variety of trees. I drove by that house last month when we were in town. It now looks like a jungle! If only my dad had lived there long enough to enjoy their full maturity. Ok, enough about trees! I have some wild ones here that need to go to sleep! Love, Cindy
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