I’ve always noticed the trees where we’ve lived. Growing up on Neat Lane, we had out front a big sycamore that Dad kept trimmed into a tidy globe of leaves. In my memory, there is a sidewalk under the tree where the itch bombs fall and gather. We pick them up and for fun explode them, throw them with all our might onto the sidewalk.
Except, I’ve been back to Neat Lane several times as an adult, and there is no sidewalk. I think there’s a curb, but beyond the curb it is up to each family to landscape their yard. Some people — like Dad — kept their yards worthy of the street’s name. Others (and again, in my faulty memory I see a washing machine and old love seat on the front porch of the neighbors across the street) did not.
It is the trees that attracted me to the house where we live now. Someone, and I imagine it to be a her, lovingly picked out the many trees and placed them all around the house, knowing that one day they would grow huge and tall and would shade the place, keeping it cool from the summer heat.
There are Ponderosas and an ornamental plum that blazes a deep red you can see from the road. There are poplars, one is now diseased on one side, that grow high without becoming wide. The leaves look like the cottonwood except silvery on one side, and in hindsight I realize the poplar reminds me more of an aspen than a cottonwood, although I believe all three are from the same family.
In our old house there was a locust tree that drew me in, outside the kitchen window. How many times did I sit on the cozy warm tiles in that house and write, pausing to stare out at the small deep green leaves of the locust?
Some trees are invasive, I’m thinking now of the elms that Jim got permission from our neighbors to cut down. The elms were on the fence line, Chinese elms, of the variety a former mayor long ago imported to Albuquerque thinking they would grow well in the arid landscape. When Jim felled those elms (and I like using the word “felled” although it seems unnatural to my language) I mourned them. I looked at them as living things, yes invasive, but they provided shade and privacy. Jim saw them as water mongers, non-native species, and I suppose he imagined a different kind of tree, one better for the water table, in their place.
Dad always disliked certain trees. For a long time he and Mom complained about the large Russian olive out front next door. It dropped tiny leaves and spongy fake olives, causing Dad much consternation. A tree is a tree, I would think. Why in the world, how in the world could they dislike a tree?
Russian olives are in fact bad for the valley and come up like little weeds everywhere. Jim has gotten rid of quite a few, but I look at them and think of the old olive trees I saw once in Jerusalem, in Gethsemane’s Garden, and I see how the trees get gnarly and thick, and each layer must have seen a different scene. If you cut back the bark, you’d find a layer that saw Jesus himself.
That’s what I think of when I think of the Russian olive. Or I think of a family photo I remember that hung in the hallway of Jim’s parents’ house. I would stare at that photo when I first went there to visit with Jim. The trunk grew sideways instead of up, and it eventually did grow up, but the sideways portion made a natural bench on which the family sat or leaned. It was a photo of them long ago, when everyone was young and Jim’s parents were at their most vibrant. Something about that photo appealed to me, like I could see marrying into a family that sits around a tree.
I think of trees like people, and I think about how we want to be like trees. Grounded and firm, with strong roots going deep into the land. Sometimes when I water a tree, I think about how the root system underneath is probably as long and wide as the portion of the tree that grows above the ground. Like a mirror image.
If people are like trees, that means that beneath us we have our mirror images, supporting us as we walk, reflecting back to us whatever it is in the core of our earth.
I couldn’t imagine living in a place without trees, and yet what I love about New Mexico is that the tree is sacred. It is not abundant, and when we see it we seek it out for shade. If I had a patron tree, like a patron saint, it would be the cottonwood. Dark, rough bark that protects the soft wood inside. And deep roots. A sign always when you see it that water is nearby.
-Related to Topic post WRITING TOPIC — TREES
If people are like trees, I’m a box elder – shallow rooted and weedy.
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Ha! I like the idea of tree totems. What tree do you most identify with, have affinity to?
Any Chinese elms out there? (Invasive. Sprouts wherever you don’t want it to be. Leaves a lot of annoying droppings behind. Etc….)
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“If people are like trees, that means that beneath us we have our mirror images, supporting us as we walk, reflecting back to us whatever it is in the core of our earth.”
Love that line, yb. It’s very poetic, but meaningful. A deep sentence, worthy of some reflection.
My tree totem — a paper birch. Delicate leaves, need some special care at times. The trunk, beautiful in a wild, unusual way, different from other trees. The bark peeling, curling, intricate marks on it. Saying what? Hard to decipher. Hmm- interesting exploration, yb.
My redRavine has provided me with lots of inspiration on this early Tuesday morning. And me with tons of work to do, now all I want to do is go visit my trees, write poetry about my totem tree, and read Leaves of Grass.
I think I may just go with those impulses. I worked hard all weekend (a 2 day art fair, hot and humid) and I took of Monday as has become my routine, but I may need a tree and nature day for at least a good portion of today.
(That is the truest joy of being self-employed and my own boss!)
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Hope you ended up taking the day off, Bo. Always a good thing to be able to do when you have those creative urges to spend time with yourself out in nature. My tree totem would be the river birch. I do like the paper birch, too. But something about the bark, look, and feel of the river birch knocks me out. When I go Down South, I LOVE the magnolia trees. They are incredible when they bloom with those huge flowers. And the smell. Nothing like it. Maybe I’ll choose a totem for every part of the country I’ve lived in. 8)
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I have enjoyed the photos of the river birch that you’ve taken, QM. A gorgeous tree, with a luscious bark and vivid green leaves.
It is hard to pick one tree, and I suppose even harder when you relate to more than one place. Like any totem, the tree totem (and I do believe there must be such a thing) is what you feel affinity for at a given time; hence, surely there can be more than one.
Bo, someday please do tell us more about your experience with the art fairs. I would love to do a post about it. I imagine you are hugely successful–your photos are beautiful and your passion palpable.
And another birch tree. The birch will always remind me of old days. Another era. Fitting that you two romantic people would feel kinship with the birch.
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Thanks, yb. Our friends planted quite a few river birch in their yard as part of their landscaping efforts. They are young and healthy. I just love them. Hadn’t thought of the birch as a tree from bygone days. I like the idea of a kinship with the romanticism of the birch. I’m going to give that a little more thought.
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Thanks, yb. Our friends planted quite a few river birch in their yard as part of their landscaping efforts. They are young and healthy. I just love them. Hadn’t thought of the birch as a tree from bygone days. I like the idea of a kinship with the romanticism of the birch. I’m going to give that a little more thought.
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yb, I’ve only done 3 so far and they were small ones to get my “feet wet” but, wow! the lessons I’ve already learned! I could write a book (or maybe a blog post!) I have one show still in July, two in August and one in September. Then I take a break before the indoor shows beginin November. I’m hoping to take Seeded Earth Studio on the road to the Southwest for a couple of months in the Feb/March. We’ll see…
Let me get a feel for how things are in the fall — might be a worthwhile and fun post to write about starting out on the art fair circuit!
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[…] related to posts: PRACTICE: Trees — 15min (by ybonesy) and PRACTICE — Trees — 15min (by […]
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