In fairness we may have some justification for claiming dominance over simple material things like bank accounts and shoes, but certainly not to things that exist outside of ourselves in the timeless natural universe.
For a brief time, as I carried it home from the garden center, and it poked its meager foliage outside the confines of my trunk, it was all mine. To the drivers, who spotted the wisp of fluttering greenery, moving sedately along the Van Wyck expressway they could say, "heh, there goes a guy taking his puny tree home from Costco." I had after all, just dished out 35 bucks for a pot of dirt and a slender twig, with about the same height, but none of the sturdy dimensions of hockey stick.
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15 years ago when I moved into my small room in Queens I had big plans. I had forsaken what I had identified as the wild natural splendor of Canada, for the urban wasteland which is New York city. On my block there were but a handful of nice big trees. Ones, that if you really looked up at them you could exclaim without hesitation, "Wow."Most of the newer trees appeared to be not much more than runts and looked as though they had a tenuous hold on surviving for another season, let alone grow tall and strong for decades more.
There was scant evidence that the street, not too many years earlier, had once displayed in summer a proud and grand canopy of green. The best and greatest tree on the street, was a stately ancient maple. The grand reach of its limbs was impressive. Its gentle shade spread over innumerable cars and homes over many hot summer days. It succumbed quickly in the aftermath of negligent sidewalk repairs in my first year on the block.
When I dumped the golden willow by the curb, my bubbling expectations for the little tree soared well beyond stellar. In retrospect they seemed to far exceed the capacity of the slender twig in a plastic pot, and perhaps indeed, all the grand plans of nature itself. Regardless, I was pretty sure that it would eventually make a green grand eternal statement, not just for 160th street, but for the entire neighborhood in which there were for me, a surprising absence of fellow willow trees.
Before I had pierced the ea
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After I had patted down the last shovel around its trunk I then brought out 2 sturdy stakes to help support it. When I tried to put one on the east and one on the west side his face suddenly grew dark like a swift storm cloud moving across the sun. He took them out of my hands and put the two of them instead to the north and to the south. All the time speaking in stern Greek and gesturing wildly with his hands as though he was going to conjure something out of thin air. I thought it prudent to accept in silence his willow tree planting wisdom. He had lived on the block much longer than I.
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Over the years the little willow has discarded any description of itself that could be equated with puny. It has quickly grown grand green and voluminous. During hot summers I have tried to water it so that it might somehow believe it grew by a cool babbling brook. I have also come to understand in a clear tangible way why there are no other similar willows lining the byways of New York city. The cascade of slender golden limbs would simply cease to allow most vehicular traffic to move forward at all.
This happenstance occurred very early on in the trees early years. It required of me a vigilant recognizance of what was happening street side and then a vigorous almost biweekly pruning. That the city itself did not come by and offer up a more devastating permanent solution is a testament, to either the tree's seeming good fortune, a miraculous out shot of the city's "million tree plan," or the simple fact that the coffers of the city did not allow a more vigorous tree management program.
Ultimately it grew so big and so fast that when the parks department finally did come along and prune it they systematically cleared all the branches from its base to almost 30 feet upwards. The crown of the tree was still magnificent and untouched. It has meant that in the last two years I have hardly had to do any pruning at all to ensure the flow of pedestrian and vehicular traffic.
Also at this time, my rights o
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Like all willows it is the first tree to throw out green leaves in the chilly spring. In fall, just as these pictures demonstrate, it is also grudging in shucking them off. It is a slow measured process, which also includes a surprising quantity of extraneous branches. Some of which are almost big enough to match the dimensions of the original tree.
To be honest I am not
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As I jot down these thoughts it is while the mean frigid days of fall are marching inexorably forward towards the harsh winter ahead. All the other trees have long since shed their finery and now look quite naked and plain compared to the lingering finery still cloaking the Golden Willow. Soon enough it will make a full retreat from its summer grandeur and join its naked woody brethren. Because it still tenaciously clings to its beauty it inspires me. Though I cannot imagine what practical biological function the lingering leaves could still perform in weather so severe.
Soon enough the leafy golden splen
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With each new spring, passerby's and neighbors will marvel at its ever expanding natural magnificence. That something becomes more beautiful with age is an observation that is duly and rightfully deserved by great trees. It is an endearing observation that we aging gardeners, and other mere mortals, are unlikely to see subscribed to ourselves.
"Be like a tree. The tree gives shade even to him who cuts off its boughs."
- Sri Chaitanya
O Ignorance! I want to be the tree of compassion.
O Man! I want to be the tree of forgiveness.
O Skies! I want to be the tree of aspiration.
O Earth! I want to be the tree of Patience.
Excerpt from Meditations: Food For The Soul by Sri Chinmoy.
5 comments:
Hi Utpal,
Excellent article. The mark of a good writer is the ability to write about everyday things and make us see them anew. This you have done most successfully. Very inspiring.
My, time flies doesn't it? Very nice Utpal! What impresses me most is that you can actually remember the details of that tree planting 15 years ago... if it had been me, I might be "fairly certain" I was the one who planted it, but I wouldn't bet on it.
Keep it going...
Astika
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Great article.Amazing what changes a few years can bring about. The other comments your article has garnered ,express my feeling exactly
Hi Utpal!
What a wonderful story!
It's refreshing to hear about someone taking the initiative to do something like this. Today, so few people are able to even think so far ahead, or follow through on such a small act with such a profound impact. Imagine what the city could be if everyone would pitch in the few dollars and bit of time to plant a treee in front of their house. There was a time when the city would do this on their own, but it seems all too often now, these grand stately trees are being replaced with smaller fast growing and less robust trees.
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