Arbor Day Archives - NorthStarNature

Hug a Tree, Plant a Tree—Your Body Will Thank You

April 28, 2019 by Denise Brake 4 Comments

National Arbor Day was Friday. It is a day that passes unnoticed by most people, I would guess. I would hate to speculate how many people do not even know what the word ‘arbor’ means. Would more people pay attention if we called it National Tree Day? Trees are important for many reasons, but their most fundamental process is to take CO2 (carbon dioxide) out of the air for use and storage and to release O2 (oxygen) back into the air—for us to breathe. That alone should have us hugging trees, planting trees, and celebrating trees every day, with every breath we take. They are literally life to us.

Trees have been the lifeblood for Chris for forty-five years now—daily interactions that go far beyond the benevolent exchange of gases. They are a part of our family—they are grown, planted, cared for, protected, and loved. Four years ago I wrote about watching/helping him plant a tree, and I thought I would share part of that post:

My dear husband Chris has been planting trees for over forty years–this flowering dogwood in front of the Odessa First United Methodist Church is just one of thousands that are the legacy of his hands and spade.

Watching him plant a large tree is a study in precision and ease and of sweat and dirt. He places the tree, then cuts a circle around it with his sharp spade. He moves the tree aside and expertly skims the sod from the circle. His foot steps the spade into the soil with a satisfying sound, and he lays that spadeful neatly beside the hole. He continues to step, lift, step, lift, step, lift–making it look easy, even as the sweat starts rolling off his face and arms. A sharp clunking sound and a jarring vibration in his hands indicate a rock, and with additional finesse and muscle, he removes it from the neat, straight-sided hole. With the handle of his spade, he measures the correct depth so the tree is not planted too deeply or too high. The width is one and a half times the diameter of the root ball. He gently rolls the tree into the hole, cuts the twine and unpins the burlap from the root ball, kneeling in the dirt he just overturned. By now his shirt is wet with sweat, and his cap and belt are dark-stained with the salty moisture. The tree is in its place, and with a vertical, cutting motion with the spade, he tamps the soil into the hole to anchor the roots in their new home. His ‘helper’ (me) turns on the water hose and trickles water as he tamps, and soon the hole is filled with dirt and water. The sod is chunked into strips and lined around the hole, and the bermed crater is soaked with a slow stream of water.

Chris has planted trees of every kind and size in four states, has grown them from seed, has pruned them, watered them, moved them, cared for them, and reluctantly cut them down. He has planted trees to memorialize people who have died and to celebrate people who are alive. He’s a tree man through and through.

So Arbor Day for us is like ‘Eat Some Healthy Food Day’ or ‘Take a Deep Breath Day’—we do it every day with little thought and with much thought. Trees are such an important, integral part of our lives—they sustain us at the most basic level of biology and at the highest stratum of spirit. And they do that for all of us, even when we are not aware.

We wander our woods and yard with excitement each Spring, noticing each tree, examining them for rabbit, deer, or winter wind damage. Some don’t make it through the winter (or the drought or whatever the challenge), but healthy color and expectant buds of new growth are signs that all is well. Others rally from the damage with Spring rains and warm temperatures, and they carry the scars through the rest of their lives. As I walked our yard this Arbor Day, I wondered how many trees Chris has planted on our one plus acre in our eleven years here. I stopped counting at one hundred. That was without counting most of the small Oaks that he grew from seed or most of the shrubs that are just starting to get their leaves or any of the trees on the wooded hillside. Here are just a few:

I know I’m kind of preaching to the choir—anyone who reads my blog already appreciates trees and all the other amazing flora and fauna of Nature. But at this time on our planet, this becomes more than a matter of appreciation. Planting trees is one of the most effective ways in which we can stave off the detrimental effects of climate change. The Nature Conservancy has pledged to plant one billion trees, and Microsoft will match your donation up to $50,000. The Arbor Day Foundation has a new ‘The Time for Trees Initiative’ to plant 100 million trees by 2022. If you sign up to support The Arbor Day Foundation, you will receive ten free trees to plant on your own. Few people can make the personal difference of actually growing and planting many thousands of trees like Chris has, but all of us can make a difference by being aware of the importance of trees, by donating to organizations that plant trees, and by planting and caring for more trees in our own lives. It truly does affect the most basic level of our biology and the highest stratum of our spirits.

When I Found a Tree and a Woman

April 29, 2018 by Denise Brake 4 Comments

It was during one of the hardest times in my life when I found a tree. It wasn’t that it was hard to find or anything—I had literally driven past it hundreds of times in my whole life, and it was a huge tree. It stands in Pioneer Park just east of a little log cabin on display for picnickers or interested Highway 14 by-passers. During the annual Arts Festival, its expansive crown offers a shady respite in the July heat for snow cone eaters and tired babies in strollers. Many people have leaned against the wide trunk while listening to the lilting flute of Brulé and other music performers on the small stage tucked among craft and food booths.

It was during one of the happiest times in my life when I found a woman. I actually found her after I serendipitously found her son—or he found me—in the same town where the huge Cottonwood tree lives. She lived in a suburban split level house in Kansas City, Missouri, and I spent many nights and days in her home before Chris and I married, and she cautiously, quietly, graciously welcomed me into her life and the life of her family. She became my Mother-in-law the day after we drove by the old Cottonwood on the evening of our wedding rehearsal.

When I found Grandmother Cottonwood, twenty-three years had passed since the happy day we drove by her to celebrate our marriage. When I found this tree, my soul felt like it was dying. I was confused, grief-stricken, weary to the bone, unable to find my way forward on any given day. I sat staring out the window during the days and walked into the chilly nights with nowhere to go—aimlessly trying to flee the pain while at the same time yearning for something. I had been blindsided—me and my whole family—with no left tackle to see what was coming and to protect us. Nobody knew what to say or what to do. One evening as I walked through the park, I walked over to the ample trunk of Grandmother Cottonwood and laid my body against her rough bark. Her roots were large as trees and created a trough of tenderness for me to recline into, and I felt held, comforted, and understood in her solid silence.

This woman named Ruth became my second mother, as I was four hundred fifty miles from my own mom. I helped her do dishes and set the table for family meals, decorate the Christmas tree, and move furniture. She helped me understand my father-in-law, learn how to make a great salad and to live simply and well. She was my protector when I was pregnant, and she held every grandchild—not just our three—with the tenderness and wonder of a miracle happening before her eyes.

Often on my nightly walks all those years later when I was once again near my home, near my own mom, I would go to the park, to the Cottonwood tree and lean against the deeply grooved bark. My painful, nervous energy would flow into the ground, swallowed up by the roots of the old tree. I would look up into the bare winter branches and wonder about all the changes this old tree had seen, all the storms it had lived through, all the celebrations it had witnessed, and all the creatures who had lived among its branches. My body would calm down, my mind would reset, and my soul would flicker back to life.

In those happy days when I found my husband, when I found Ruth, when I found motherhood, my joy was multiplied in all kinds of ways. My roots grew down, and my branches grew up and out. Later, in the hard days, I had lost my mother-in-law, my father-in-law, my bearings, my dreams—my branches were being torn from me and my long-held convictions were being up-rooted—and I found the wise, old Grandmother Cottonwood.

It’s been fifteen years today since Ruth died, and yet she lives on within me because of the many gifts she gave to me and to her whole family. She gifted us with her laughter, her quiet strength, and her deep love. I am ever so glad I found her. I am grateful for finding Grandmother Cottonwood during my hard time, whose quiet, old strength and wise ways helped to heal my battered and broken soul and calmed my weary body. I am grateful to my Mom, who expertly took these photographs of the beautiful old Cottonwood, since I am one hundred eighty miles from both of them. At certain times in our lives we find people or trees or animals who save our souls during hard times and enhance our lives during happy times. Welcome them cautiously, quietly, and graciously.

Tree Stories of Our Lives

April 29, 2016 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

I’m planting a tree to teach me to gather strength from my deepest roots. –Andrea Koehle Jones from “The Wish Trees”

The weeping willow tree was a magical fort in the corner of our yard. The wispy walls hid us in the cool shade on hot summer days on the farm, and yet, with no trouble at all, we could burst through the ‘walls’ to the sunshine. It was one of my favorite things about the South Dakota farm (along with the animals) when I was a young child. Forty-five years later when I went back to see my first home, the magnificent weeping willow tree still stood in the corner of the yard.

Forests are the lungs of our land, purifying the air and giving fresh strength to our people. –Franklin D. Roosevelt

I spent my school-age years in the tree-populated foothills of the Blue Mountains in Pennsylvania. Our yard was scattered with old fruit trees–sour cherry, apple and pear. A tire swing hung from the apple tree where I would sit and ponder all the things a child needs to ponder. The woods behind our house was a wilderness of maple and sassafras trees, large boulders, a small creek, and plenty of poison ivy, but it was the perfect place for trails, forts, games, and pure air to fill our lungs and power our legs.

Then one day the boy came to the tree and the tree said, “Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in my shade and be happy.” –Shel Silverstein from “The Giving Tree”

A huge, old Elm tree stood between our yard and hay-field on our Missouri acreage. It was the chosen spot, the perfect place for a tree house for our three young ones. It was large and secure, yet so high up that it felt like you could touch the sky, sing with the birds, and dance with the wind.

Trees are sanctuaries. –Hermann Hesse

Cottonwood trees are giants of the prairie. I was in graduate school back in South Dakota when I discovered an ancient old Cottonwood in a park where I would walk to clear my head. From the road it just looked like ‘one of the park trees,’ but when I stood beside it, underneath it, I felt like I was in the presence of the Great Spirit. The bark was deeply grooved and corky, and the roots that fanned out from the gigantic trunk, like spokes on a wheel, were as large as other trees. At a certain time of the year, the cotton, containing the seed, would fall and glide and float away on the wind. I would often stand with my back against the trunk thinking about all the history that had passed by this tree, all the storms that had pounded its branches, all the July festival-goers who had taken shelter under its shade, and all the seasons of harsh cold, gentle rains, singing summer leaves, and brilliant yellow foliage.

The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn. –Ralph Waldo Emerson

Back to this time and this place to the Old Beauty of an Oak tree that rises tall outside our bedroom window. It is one of many oaks around us that produces acorns. With a little help from Chris to keep the rabbits at bay, the acorns sprout into seedlings, who grow ever so slowly into saplings and ever so slowly into young trees…one day to be a sprawling Old Beauty.

I would guess that most people have tree stories from their life’s journey. My childhood with trees brings back happy memories of play, imagination, and agility. We were living, breathing companions, sharing oxygen and carbon dioxide, stability and freedom, and growth. Then I married a ‘tree man,’ who even before I met him thirty-six years ago had already planted more trees than most people do in a lifetime. Together we love, care for, and appreciate trees. When our three children were growing up, trees were an integral part of their lives, and I know they have tree stories of their own. And that ancient Cottonwood in the park–it gave me strength, perspective, and wisdom at a time in my life when everything else seemed to be falling away. The seeds of our lives and the seeds of their lives–living together, not taking the gifts for granted, never underestimating the mutual need–all of us growing to become Old Beauty.

A Man Who Plants Trees

April 24, 2015 by Denise Brake 2 Comments

He that plants trees loves others besides himself. –Thomas Fuller

Photo by Rosemarie Varner

Arbor Day was established in Nebraska in April of 1872 by J. Sterling Morton, a journalist who wrote and spoke of environmental stewardship and the interrelatedness of life. He wanted to set aside one day for people to plant trees and learn to care for them. Trees are the symbol of life and reflect a hope for the future and concern for the generations yet to come. Arbor Day is now celebrated in every state and in other countries. Many school children receive a free tree sapling to bring home to plant. In the words of J. Sterling Morton:

“ … all the people strive on Arbor Day to plant many, many trees, both forest and fruit. May the day and the observance thereof be cherished in every household, and its name and fruits become as a shower of blessing to the long lines of generations who shall succeed us.”

Today on Arbor Day, step outside and receive the shower of blessing from all the trees that surround you, and leave a legacy for the future generations by planting a tree.

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