Today I planted a tree. An oak tree. My friend and master native plant nursery man Mike Evans had brought it this far from an acorn. As I put it in the ground it’s about six feet tall. He says, with normal care it should grow about three feet per year, and two inches in caliper. Who knows if I’ll live long enough to see it in any kind of mature glory?
Looks pretty scrawny now, but give it a couple of decades, or centuries.
Mike says that whoever plants trees loves people. Interesting thought. The fact is, I was doing this for myself. Behind our house, on something of a green space, is a line of majestic and mature eucalyptus trees. To me, they’re the soul of the whole area. But the tree trimmers come far too often and lately, due to “liability,” have taken to cutting some down altogether. I figure it’s only a matter of time before they’ll all be gone. So, in a measure of self defense, I’m planting a few of my own.
The oak is the most ambitious, the most far reaching. Others have included a ficus, a silver dollar eucalyptus (still in a pot) and a couple others before that. All wonderful.
But why an oak? Because of the spreading, strong, and ever-green majesty. Any drive through California’s central coast will remind of their sprawling beauty. And we saw them again (along with many other species) growing so beautifully in Ojai on the recent birthday trip.
Remember that? Or did I mention it? It was a short end-of-summer break . . . with Anne finishing up her time at the Laguna Art Festival, and me reconnoitering on what I might do next with my life.
You’ll also remember (or did I mention it?) in all my reflections I didn’t come up with anything particularly new, just a desire for deepening in all things. (See “Another Year Ended,” here.)
So maybe planting the oak is symbolic.
Shady oaks at The Blue Iguana, our favorite get away in Ojai.
Then, this morning’s meditation brought me to this: “Whoever sows to the flesh will reap of the flesh; whoever sows to the spirit will reap of the spirit.”
I’m not sure where sowing to the soil fits into that, but it does establish the principle. Here’s the rest: “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”
Then: “As we have opportunity, let us do good to all people . . . ” *
And there we go, back to Mike’s statement, “Whoever plants a tree loves people.”
God bless us all . . . and prosper what we sow.
_________
* excerpts from New Testament, Galatians 6:8-10
BTW, mine is a “Coast Live Oak” (Quereus agrifolia) purchased at the soulful Tree of Life Nursery, of which friend Mike is proprietor.
Our Lives Together
Its About Life
10:40 am
Hyatt,
How encouraging!
Thank you!
The Bible actually exhorts us to be like a certain tree:
“Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers.
But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on His law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by the streams of water which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.” (Psalm 1:1-3 NIV) Sara
11:01 am
Very nice, Hyatt– I too am a lover of plants and enjoy working in my garden. However, knowing how big and mighty oak trees get, I am wondering if you are planting yours too close to your wall. In ten years the tree will be a much bigger plant! When we bought our house in Virginia, the owners had left a “volunteer” tree to grow near the house. After ten to fifteen years, it was so large and close to the house that we had to remove it (we live in an area where trees often fall down because of high winds or heavy rain storms, and several of our neighbors have suffered house damage). It’s not too early to think of the future!
11:05 am
Doris, Thanks. Actually you’re the second that’s pointed this out (the other off-blog). You may be right. But by Mike’s calculations it could start crowding the wall in about 30 years (I just measured). By then I’ll be 102 . . . and will let someone else deal with the wall :-)
11:04 am
Thought you might like read about this monster. We’ve visited it once. Wonder if yours might ever grow so much.
http://tpwd.texas.gov/state-parks/goose-island/the-big-tree
11:09 am
Jim, Thanks. You’ll see my comment to Doris in DC, above. Where you are in Texas, everything’s bigger. But by what you’ve shared, maybe I really should rethink. Maybe I should put the tree the middle of the yard and eventually move the house into the tree!
11:12 am
And this, repeated many times as a “Chinese proverb,”
The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago.
The second best time is today.
11:20 am
May you be continuously inspired by the symbolism of your new oak tree – and live at least long enough for it to produce acorns so you can plant and grow another!
11:08 pm
Hyatt I enjoyed your article and the pictures. Reminded me of my father, a devoted farmer. Can you tell me who wrote these words: He who plants a tree, writes a book and raises a son may so rightfully die in peace…?
6:31 am
Mario, Is that how they say it in Guatemala? I’ve heard “Writes a book, raises a son, and builds a house.” Who wrote it, who knows? But by your version I suppose I’m ready to go now. I do have the peace. Thanks, mi amigo.
9:37 am
Very nice. I love trees – all kinds. Like people, they all have their own characteristics and beauty.
10:48 am
Likewise, as Alison and I toured down the Oregon coast last month, the trees often caught out attention. So much “character” with those oldies right near the water. Yet, that character and charm was fashioned by the harsh dealings of wind, rain, temperature, lightning. It’s like each tree tells a wonderful story.
9:49 pm
If you want a lacy tree that spreads over your yard and two neighbors yard, get an albizia. In the spring it is covered with strange yellow catkins that are literally roaring with bees which are fun to listen to their “tune”. So I guess I had better call the tree trimmer again. And yes,eucalyptus trees are bold climbers going where no other tree dares to go. To keep any limbs from free fall, It has been severely trimmed – so someday I may have to say good bye to it before it has torn up the whole landscape. But I still love the silver dollar eucalyptus.