Some Trees, the Woods

Dear Maria,

Your namesake hurricane laying waste along its path and 28 years ago, Hugo. Only coincidence the timing of this letter, but hard not to note. As I told my mother this morning, Hugo ignites our memories without the prompting of photos.

Floods, hurricanes, earthquakes—so many terrible trials for so many, many people.

As to some of your questions—and numbered?—the nursery idea is rooted in a 3-year plan to be growing 2000 trees and shrubs. At least. No, really. Right now my last inventory counted 152 items that could be sold, but generally I bought small to grow tall. How’s that for sloganeering? And pretty much this year is a lab with a lot of surprises, aka steep learning curve.

Part of that curve is discovering I enjoy more one Chinese wisteria coming up from seed than the 20 river birches adding a foot or so of growth this season. So, plant 5000 seeds? I’m thinking about it.

My youngest neighbor—I am, or very nearly am, the senior citizen on the cul-de-sac. How the heck did that happen?—he worries about my little growing adventure. He frets about the costs and thinks I work too hard out in the sun. His observation: I don’t know anyone who ever bought a tree. I told him my doctor would approve the pushing, pulling, lifting, and digging. Rather all of that for me instead of repetitive exercises. His response: You can work out in a gym. And so it goes.

To be fair, he mows the slope between our yards to keep me off of it with my push mower, and I have no doubt he would lend a hand with a heavy load. He loves his kids and seems to have a mostly easy-going hold on life. A good neighbor, as they all seem to be in this neck of the woods.

As for the birds, the usual suspects. More particularly, two sightings of bald eagles so far, a Cooper’s hawk 30’ away on the back fence the other morning, a bluebird and a goldfinch landing together in one of the rescue willow oaks, over 100 geese coming in last night to overnight on the lake. May not be the cranes at Gibbon or flamingos at Nakuru, but I find the comings and goings of my—my—geese amusing and comforting.

My seasonal lament is always the same, the shortening days. I drink my morning coffee on the patio now in the pre-dawn coolness before the geese are stirring. But life remains good, and that is no small thing as we both know.

As always, my very best to you and the family.

Yours, srk