Trees are magical
Why do we care so much when a tree gets taken down? Whether it’s our own tree in our own yard or a tree in the neighborhood? Every time I see a tree being removed in my neighborhood I feel a little bit sad. Why is that? How are we connected to trees and why do we feel loss when they are gone?
There are the physical reasons of course. They provide us shade, shelter, and oxygen. I could provide a litany of facts and figures of all the ways a tree benefits us (there are so many ways). We literally need them to live. They provide the oxygen we breathe. They also cause my seasonal allergies, which are miserable. But when I look at a tree, I don’t think of any of those things. Instead, all I see is wonder and magic.
They are the visual cue to the changing of the season. From the first bud signaling the end of winter to the shade they provide to help us escape the heat of summer. The changing color in the fall tells us to prepare for winter, and in the winter, they reveal their secret nests where birds and squirrels lived over the spring and summer. They are telling us that we are not the only ones who need trees to live. It is hard not to smile when watching squirrels chase each other around the trunk. I was lucky enough to have a mama duck nest in the ivy under one of our big pine trees two years in a row. The first year, something got to her eggs. But that second year, I woke up early and watched those little ducklings make their way back to the canal behind our house. I was on a high for a week!
As kids, they provide us a place to explore, hide, and think of all the things we want to do in this world. Our son once made a little writing desk in one of our trees. It drove Bob nuts. It wasn’t really a tree that was strong enough to hold people. Luckily, our son was young and not too heavy. He would sit in the tree and write his Dogman graphic stories. I loved it! So despite Bob’s disapproval, I never really stopped him. Our son also liked to make me nervous with his tree climbing. In Boise, there are two parks, Elm Grove and Camelsback that have notoriously good climbing trees. He never went as high as some kids, mostly because I told him not to (this mama can only handle so much) but it was still fun to watch. And as he got bigger, he went higher and so did my nervousness. Although, I do try to hold it back.
I walk through our neighborhood on a pretty consistent basis because of the trees. When it is hot, I seek their shade. In the winter, I am looking for signs of spring. And in the fall, I pick up the leaves to bring home to paint in all their variety of shapes of colors. Walking in this neighborhood, I don’t feel like I live in the desert. I am transported to another place when I walk among our tree lined streets. I’m not the only one.
A few years ago, ACHD and the City of Boise held a neighborhood meeting for the residents of my street. The City was working on an initiative to build sidewalks in our neighborhood. One of the most densely populated neighborhoods, not only with people, but also with trees. My particular street is a little farther away from downtown and when it was originally platted 90+ years ago, the homes were farms on one acre or larger. Our street is narrow. If there is a car parked on the street, there’s barely room for 2 cars to pass. It barely meets fire safety standards. And sidewalks start and stop all along the street. So, when City staff came asking us our opinion about sidewalks, they were fairly surprised when we told them we didn’t want them. And it wasn’t one or two residents saying no, it was a loud, resounding No. When they asked us why not, there was only one answer.
The Trees.
Old trees line our street. A variety of species from maples, walnuts, elms, and pine trees. Most of them were planted before the current residents were even born. We are passionate about these trees in my neighborhood, and every time a tree is removed, we are saddened. A sudden hole in the landscape that glares at you because the shade that was provided is no longer there. A reminder that things change, that sometimes trees get taken down because they are diseased or cause safety problems. It always makes me feel better when I see that tree replaced, knowing that in 20 years, someone else will get to experience its magic.
Even in an urban environment, being among these trees, you can’t help but feel a little less anxious. Less stressed. And a little more connected to the neighborhood when you think about how long this tree has been here, the changes it has lived through, and how you are privileged to be part of its journey. In the end, trees make us feel better.
“Trees give peace to the souls of men.”
— Nora Waln
