Discuss: Draw Me a Tree

Hello Orion Readers,

I would love to hear about a tree that has some special importance to you or someone you know.  Feel free to share your tree story here.

Best,

Dan

We have a lovely pink dogwood that overhangs our backyard deck. When my daughter was 3, we were sitting outside underneath the branches of this tree when she looked up and asked me “Mommy what is this tree’s name?” I told her that it was a dogwood, but that’s not what she meant. “No, what is it’s name!” When I told her “I don’t know” She said, “She’s so pretty. I’m going to call her Cindy!” Ever since then, our family has referred to this tree as “Cindy”.  As in- “Oh, look there’s a little, yellow bird sitting on Cindy!” or “Let’s take our lunch outside and sit under Cindy!” My daughter is married now and expecting her own little girl in March and I can’t wait to sit under Cindy’s pretty pink petals with her.

What a great and worthwhile project, Dan.  Thank you. 

There are two snags on the ranch in Wyoming where my son and daughter were raised.  These big old ponderosas had grown side by side for at least 75 years, and I called them the Grandparent trees.  After one brutal day of howling winds, the Grandmother tree was blown over. 

Now she lies beneath the Grandfather tree, stretched out, her trunk a sheltered area for ground dwelling animals, where once it sheltered the winged ones. 

If you’ve not heard the song “Two Trees” by Chuck Pyle, you might enjoy it.  Here’s a link: http://www.chuckpyle.com/music.html.

Thanks again.

Page Lambert

This is a beautiful project.

I love the giant old red oak here that the swing hung on when I was a boy.  I miss the old June apple tree in the pasture that climbed every spring for the first apples of the year.  And the dogwood my Mama planted in the cemetary when my Daddy died is special to me as well.

For a great poetic ode to a tree, check out Wendell Berry’s poem Sycamore.

peace

The oak tree of my childhood heaved its long, sinewy branches over the edge of the quarry making for perfect shade to rest under after an afternoon of riding our bikes; its hearty branches the perfect for attaching rope swings and climbing.  It was a spot of many youthful injuries, and certainly young romances as well, yet this sliver of accidental wilderness would capture the occasional sounds of a coyote as its howl echoed off the quarry walls.  Higher up in the tree, above our grasp, most certainly hawks would watch us scramble and climb on the slopes below.  It’s impression in my mind 30 years later is so incredibly vivid and it is this impression that will have to suffice as the oak tree that stood sentinel over a generation of kids was replaced with young sweetgums planted squarely in the front yards of the new homes occupying the same footprint.

On Hornby Island, overlooking Sand Dollar beach is the most beautiful Arbutus tree. It catches the setting sun and the red/orange bark glows like fire. Never situated more than 300 metres from the Pacific Ocean, Arbutus trees are said to be the spirit of a First Nations woman mourning the loss of her never-returned fisherman husband. They are the only evergreen trees that drip leaves year round. I have countless memories centred around Arbutus trees and this one in particular stands as my favourite.

My Tree
My tree is a friend. It’s a Cottonwood draped over a dry dusty arroyo in the middle of town.
I cried when the winds of 2011 tore it practically in two.
The city came and gave it some love and care. Now it is surviving a drought stricken winter that blows its branches and tetones around on the bike path.
I love that tree, I long to see it in the morning with the pink and blue skies that are its backdrop. Every season is unique with the cycles of life that paint for us the changes we enjoy.
The misty greens that suddenly appear in late Spring. The massive shadow it shares with me in the heat of the summer. The brillant gold and browns that cover the dark blue sky in fall. Now we wait with lace covered branches for the winter to end.
My tree is my friend.

I have trouble identifying just one tree that stands out from the forest of many I’ve paid special attention to throughout my life. Thinking of them makes me feel romantic, this attachment to nature, the way it makes you feel part of a bigger scheme of things. And the idea of nature offering an avenue for escape.

In the end, I’d go for a wild cherry tree I climbed as a teenager in late summer some time back. I was attending a wedding party but it felt so overwhelming and out of touch with my current problems that I needed a place to run away.

And I did it, undeterred by the oddity of my behavior, unsuitability of my outfit or what people would have thought.

It was a couple of minutes of freedom that keep coming back and taste so great even twenty years on.