Trees inspire me, and my bias tells me that Louisiana trees have a special personality. Now, I know that trees have no knowledge of state boundaries, but still ...
I love to photograph them in the winter, against bleak skies. If they’re deciduous, that’s when you can see their bones, their true form, their death before rebirth.
I live in an older Baton Rouge neighborhood. It’s not trendy. The houses at one time were considered a bit upscale (before “upscale” was a word), but now they are politely called “older” homes. But the one thing my gently declining neighborhood has is trees. Thick and thin, shaggy, scraggly, clumped, towering or majestic—they are everywhere.
On my property are four large live oak trees, one white oak, two large magnolias, a young pecan, two stands of nice pine trees and a variety of river birches, cherries and a Leyland cypress. Pines are the sentinels that guard the outer perimeter of my yard. I lost one backyard pine to Hurricane Rita and another to Hurricane Gustav. I promptly replanted pine seedlings in their place. I think of the pines as soldiers battling the winds of the Gulf of Mexico or the Arctic blasts from the Northwest Territories.
My oaks cradle my roof with cooling shade. The Louisiana live oak: dense, mysterious and ancient. Poems have been written in an attempt to describe it, and rightly so. When I’m on my front yard swing hanging from my oak and look out at Fairfax Park, I am in a state of perfect pastoral bliss. It doesn’t matter that the honking roar of Florida Boulevard is only two blocks away.
I think of my fellow urbanites trapped treeless in their new subdivisions.
I say, if you don’t have a tree, get one, or two, or even a half-dozen.
Planting a tree is a truly unselfish act. You don’t plant them for yourself, but as a gift for the generations to come. To plant a tree is an act of reverence … a love letter to the good earth.
The Chinese proverb says it: one generation plants the trees under which another takes its ease.
Louisiana’s Arbor Day is January 20. The dead of winter, as home gardeners and landscape professionals know, is the perfect time to plant a tree. From February 27 through March 4, the Louisiana Department of Agriculture and Forestry hosts its annual Shade Tree Sale at its offices throughout the state. More than a million superior genetics hardwood and pine seedlings have been distributed to the public at bargain basement prices during the sale since it began in 1976.
But be forewarned. A tree seedling looks nothing like a tree. A bundle of kindling came to mind when I bought my first pack of hardwoods. And the pine trees? Hairy pencils. But you know what? Those twigs grow rapidly and my four-year-old bald cypress is doing great. My two river birches are each twelve feet tall now.
I felt good when I planted them and I feel good watching them grow. I hope they grow tall and are loved by my children and their children. I have begun something that will outlive me. I have planted hope.
This winter, no matter how gray, how cold, how wet or how dreary it is, plant a tree. It can be a seedling from the Shade Tree Sale, a ten-gallon pecan from the nursery, a citrus tree from Plaquemines Parish or a fig tree from the Garden of Eden. But plant hope. Do it for hope.
Details. Details. Details.
Read Sam’s comprehensive guide to just where you can find the best local tree stock at lanote.org.
