Tag Archives: Trees

Age Unknown

Once upon a time, a tree sprouted in St. Louis County. The plant grew, and grew. Through the years it hosted birds and squirrels. Shade provided relief from summer heat to rabbits, chipmunks, and other creatures. Through the years it stretched upward. Spread branches in an enlarging circle.

And then…

Branches turned dry and brittle. Needles changed from green to brown. Less and less wind became necessary for an impromptu prune.

Experts arrived. Hydraulic arms lifted a man up high. A chainsaw whirred.

After the sawdust settled and the wooden corpse was hauled away, this remains. How many years did the pine tree live? No rings. The ruler in the photo is twelve inches — so my guess is a multiple of the twenty years I lived across a narrow walkway.

If this were an animated movie — Ms. Squirrel could gather the neighbors and regal them with a “stump” speech.

Air Dance

Change in season. Change of temperature. Here comes the wind — autumn this time. Signaling the end of the growing season.

Yes, it’s time to tidy up, repair, and stock up on some staples.

Have you pulled out or trimmed the annual plants? Stored the patio furniture? Don’t forget the hose!

Leaves taking the “scenic route” from treetop to ground. Can you hear them?

“Let’s dance and get a glimpse of the neighbors before we settle in and face the rake.”

Dreams in the Field

When I grow up — I want to be a Christmas Tree.

Can you picture me — tall, trunk straight, branches full — I’ll hold your precious, antique ornaments of glass, wood, paper, or fabric. My green fingers have room for new ones too — gifts, crafts assembled by children, strings of beads, popcorn, or cranberries.

Do I look fine? Am I ready?

The workers have done a fine job shearing me into shape each year.

Want to make me a good house guest in December? Keep my water dish filled — some days I’ll drink more than others — the better to keep my needles firm on the twigs.

When the gifts have been exchanged and the wrapping paper discarded — don’t forget about me. Many towns and cities have special collection sites and will turn me into mulch for spring gardens. (Or check with the local zoo — elephants think I’m a special snack.)

Thinking Christmas trees? Check out Starr Tree Farm — a sweet romance with a touch of suspense. You never know what will have on a Christmas tree farm in January.

Kindle readers: https://amzn.to/2zqIQEw

Nook readers: http://bit.ly/2zpVt2X

Growing for the Future

Row upon row upon row the evergreens decorate the gentle hills.

What does the future hold?

Northern Christmas Trees – field of Fraizer Fir

The kind gentleman who escorted three women (old enough to be his mother) around the Christmas tree farm explained they are considered a ten-year crop. If holding to that schedule — these young trees, photographed in 2011, have already spent a season in living rooms throughout the United States. Today this same field is likely growing the next crop. Patience. Plan ahead. They sound like keys to a successful Christmas tree farmer.

Authors also need to plan ahead. Books are not an instant crop from pen (or computer) to book-in-hand. Can I build on the past? To what extent? Is it time to explore a new location? A new time frame? Where are the turning points in life?

Looking for a story set on a Christmas tree farm or the small village nearby? Check out: Starr Tree Farm

Apple books: https://apple.co/2pxRXhf

For Nook readers: http://bit.ly/2zpVt2X

For Kindle readers: https://amzn.to/2zqIQEw

Resolution or Experiment

Did you make a New Year’s Resolution? Have you broken it?

It’s difficult to develop a new habit. And for some reason, establishing a new positive habit feels harder than repeatedly performing a not-good-for-me task.

Regular readers of this blog are aware that the majority of the photos posted are my own. In that spirit — I plan to document a tree on the first day of each month. The tree happens to be an ash. I expect that it will need to be taken down in another five years or so — the ash borer is in the area. Plus it’s been shedding limbs in windstorms to a greater degree than other trees in the neighborhood. However, the location makes it convenient — a dozen steps from my front door I get a good view.

It was a gloomy morning and every twig was frosted when I captured this during a freezing drizzle. (Not the sort of weather to linger.) Welcome to 2021! The year of the ash tree???

Feeling Hollow

Do you ever feel a little hollow?

No, not hungry for food. But like something’s missing. Perhaps a loved one has moved away or died. A careless person gave an emotional wound.

Humans can work to repair and rebuild. They can establish new ties or strengthen ones which were weak. Humans extend this sort of care sometimes to the animal world — especially when caring for physical hurts by the appropriate medical care.

The next time you feel hollow — think of a tree. They put on a brave trunk and bark. Support as many leaves as possible. Cling to life — it’s the way of the living world. But…

give thanks the cure for human grief, or parasites, is not this drastic.

While this may have been the sensible action for a tree in a municipal park, don’t use the same on your fellow human.

Getting Close

Several years ago, as part of my research and promotion for Hiding Places, [a sweet romance featuring an apple orchard], I took advantage of having an apple tree nearby and photographed it often.

It was interesting to view the bare twig (have I got the right tree) to blossom, leaf, forming fruit, and then…

Lunch box treat — I wonder if the employees of the adjoining auto body shop helped themselves? I think I would have. What about you?

Side-by-Side

Nature is always concerned about the next generation. From a simple one cell organism to the largest of the whales, offspring is front and center.

It’s not a surprise then that trees put a lot of energy into seed. Some like to scatter them with the wind. Others hide the side in thick, hard shells for animals to carry off. Still others use a combination.

Open, brown cones from 2019 share a branch with developing 2020 crop.

Patience Rewarded

Have you been patient? Have you refrained from cutting down trees and bushes that  are merely dormant instead of dead?

One week ago, this blog featured a photo of a fig tree in early March.

Fast forward to July.

Lush leaves. Are they large enough to sew a few together for a bikini? I’d select a different tree: one on your own property would be best for that experiment.

Growing fruit. Staring into the branches will conjure up visions of sweet tarts and treats. A little more time to ripen. The reward is within sight.

A Time to Rest

Early March :  What’s that?

I looked twice at the familiar scene at the botanical garden and took a few seconds to register the sight.

Have I taken a photo of a dead tree? No, while the branches are bare, I’ve confidence the fig tree is alive.

Dormant. Resting. Not a single leave. An impulsive person might mark it to be chopped down. Fig wood? I’ve never heard of it being used for building or crafts. Would it be burned for fuel? Would it have a pleasing odor?

Thankfully– this tree is in a safe place and will reward the patient with signs of life.     Be patient and stay tuned.