The Triumph of Trees


A few weeks ago my new neighbor decided to severely prune two of my trees that are near our property line while I was away for the weekend.  What once provided an ecological and effective screen was removed and hauled to the curb for trash pickup.  These were both trees that I had grown from seed and species not commonly grown commercially and they meant a lot to me.  The silk bay (Persea humilis) seed came from a plant in a Lake Wales Ridge scrub that I visited several times a year for at least two decades.  It has since been cleared and a house with a turfgrass yard has now replaced it.  The sandhill haw (Crataegus lassa) seed came from a few ripe haws that I collected near the entrance of Torreya State Park. The tree was one that my friend, Gil Nelson, identified for me or I would have thought it was just a variety of summer haw (C. flava).  Plants I've grown from seed always have special meaning to me as they conjure up memories of excursions or people.  When they suffer, I suffer with them.  When they die, I mourn....

I've since come to an understanding with my neighbor and I like to think that we've become friends; at least we are on friendly terms. In the meantime, my two trees have begun healing themselves.  I always believed that they would, and they are proving me right.  It may take a year or two, but I'll remain patient.  I've found over the years that plants are far more resilient than animals.  Trees tip over but as long as a root remains in the ground, they keep going; sideways at first, but upwards eventually.  I've had trees die to the ground only to reemerge 2 years later.  My gum bully (Sideroxylon lanuginosum) is now 10 feet tall.  It is just one of many stories I could write about regarding the resilience of trees, but maybe another time.

Plants and animals share much the same stories.

 

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