Tree & Me: You Go, Tree!
A story from Nora of Durham, NC
Welcome to the 4th edition of Tree & Me, a storytelling series from Leaf & Limb.
In each edition, we share a reader-submitted story that captures a meaningful connection with trees. This month, we hear from Nora of Durham, NC.
You Go, Tree!
There’s a ridiculous tree that I was afflicted with an immediate fondness for the moment I saw it. I still don’t even know what kind of a tree it is, and I haven’t even been within a hundred feet of it. It lives in one of those grassy unnamed spaces inside a cloverleaf exit somewhere along the Durham expressway.
I only noticed it because someone must have decided that the trees and other plants in that little patch needed cleaning up. Maybe people were camping there, or maybe it was interfering with some obscure infrastructure. These unnamed and unnoticed tangles of garbage-bag trees, vines, and debris drifts that line the spaghetti mess of our high-speed urban roads are hardly more than visual noise, and we tend to tune them out. But I always think, when I do consider these spaces, that many birds and other animals must find refuge there. It must matter somehow.
Anyway, for whatever bureaucratic reason, a crew went in and cleared out the vines, shrubs, and trash, leaving a few newly exposed trees and a tidy turf. I noticed this on my way back to the office one day and mentioned to my traveling companion that it looked like a major clean-up had taken place, and one tree, separate from the others, looked kind of sad. “Prolly shoulda cut that one down,” my companion said.
This saddened me in a way that I would never have admitted out loud, but I said I was rooting for it anyway. It was a big Charlie Brown tree, all lopsided; one gawky limb sticking out with strands of dying vines fluttering off it like streamers from an old parade. And I was rooting for it.
Every day I drive by on my daily commute, and I glance at it for a fraction of a second before returning my eyes to the road and the scary business of navigating morning traffic.
Six years later, this tree still stands. Although it’s not beautiful, it’s at least vigorous with a lively flush of limbs poking out around the trunk. Maybe some birds, or perhaps a possum nests in it, with traffic flying all around. I smile and whisper, “you go, tree.”
Have your own tree story?
Do you have a tree that holds a special place in your heart? Maybe it’s a childhood climbing tree, a backyard favorite, or one you planted in memory of someone you love.
Please share your story with us to celebrate the powerful connection between people and trees. You can do so by filling out the form below. Each month, we will select a new story to be featured in this "Tree & Me" series.
