Saturday, July 18, 2009

What is a Pine Tree Worth?

My wife and I married in August of 2002. Along with the promise of our vows, so came a promise to my daughter (8) and to Carri's daughter (6). We knew that blending two families together would be a challenge and that our relationship would need to be strong and deep. We also knew however that the rewards could be long-lasting.

Because the four of us had already planned a summer vacation together before we got engaged, we decided to forgo a traditional honeymoon, and instead take a "family honeymoon." My friend Jeff Wiley provided us with his Spider Lake cabin, just east of Mercer, Wi. Here at Spider Lake we began to build the foundations of our new family.

After a week in the woods we made a trip to the back of his property and dug up a small white pine. It was 13 inches tall (probably in its second or third summer) and fit snugly into our tidy white pot. When we returned to Madison we transplanted the tree in our back yard. We surrounded the pine with mulch, watered it daily, and hoped for its survival. Its roots and its stability were an important symbol for our family.

Months later, after the warmth of spring had melted the snows, our seemingly fragile pine had sprouted its trunk upward and its branches outward. Amazingly, after an August transplant, it survived a Wisconsin winter. A good sign!

Then in the late winter of 2005, eight months after our third daughter joined the family, we moved to a larger home as we had simply outgrown our cozy ranch. When selling our house we added language to the sales contract that would allow us to come back in the spring to dig up our white pine once again.

This time we transplanted the pine directly out our front door, in a spot where we would see it several times a day. I was a little concerned that another transplant would hurt its chances for survival, but my wife assured me that it would be good for its long-term health. It appears she was right. After surviving a hot and dry summer, the pine then made it through another Wisconsin winter and was again providing us with its inspiring spring-time growths.

During the late winter of 2007 we were hit with a horrible ice storm. Everything was frozen and everything was shut down. My neighbor came over to find out why I had a hair dryer attached to an extension cord in my front yard, melting the ice off of the pine. He could only smile and nod his head as I tried to explain the significance of the White Pine.

Then later in the spring we noticed that the entire pine had very suddenly turned brown and that its needles were falling off. I panicked. I thought we had lost it. I thought I had killed it. I poured over books and reference pages and came to the hopeful conclusion that the browning of its needles was natural. That sometimes white pines just shed their needles. But all we could do was wait. Then almost as quickly as the needles turned brown, they recovered, and once again lifted themselves towards the sunshine. Another good sign!

Now, during its 10th or 11th summer, the pine has grown taller than me. It's no longer a fragile tree, but one that can withstand strong winds, deep snow, drenching rains, hot, dry weather, and even neighborhood children thinking it is a toy. It is healthy. It is growing.

Sure its just a tree, but when I leave my door in the morning I see a companion and a protector. I see widespread roots and growing branches. I see shared struggles and shared joy. I see a symbol of strength and courage. I see a white pine, the most majestic of all Wisconsin's trees.

10 comments:

  1. Kia ora Larry,
    I am happy your tenacity is being rewarded, and the roots of that tree represent the very deep roots of your family. A great chapter in the unfolding book of your lives.
    It reminds me strongly of the custom of the indigenous Maori of New Zealand called Whenua -Fenooah, meaning Connect to or Return to the Land, one's original place, the placenta from the birth of a family member. Commonly it is buried beneath a young sapling someplace on the family land.
    When my youngest son Charlie was born I took his placenta, which I had frozen, to my favourite place in the Ruahines, Top Maropea, a place I have spent over 30 odd nights at the head of a beautiful mountain valley. I buried it there beneath a young beech tree and marked it with a small cairn, or pile of stones. I am happy to write that beech tree is still thriving, the little pile of rocks now a feature of Top Maropea as people passing through add a stone to its growing bulk, even if they do not why. This year when Charlie turns 7 I will take him there, as I did with my oldest son. When I die I will have my own ashes scattered there as well. These connections run deep, and your love, care, and honouring of that little tree moves me deeply. Kia kaha my friend.
    Rangimarie (Peace to you)
    Robb

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  2. Your white pine is an apt symbol of your family. Nice that you could transplant it to your new location. A wonder for your family to grow with it.
    The feathery needles of the white pine were something that I always missed during my years in Alaska. My wife embroidered a couple sprigs of white pine needles onto a wool shirt that I had to remind me of the soft needles, so different from the white and black spruce needles of the predominant conifers that were abundant where we lived.
    We have planted trees wherever we've lived. It is wondrous, when I've returned to those places, to see how the trees have grown over the years - alder as a snow break along the drive to our house above Kachemak Bay (in this meadowland alders stand tall while willows lay down in the drifting snow) - White spruce and paper birch at our home on the upper Yukon - fruit trees and tamaracks where we live now, on the Keweenaw Peninsula - all for beauty and memory.

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  3. Like you, we have a couple of olive trees that we have transplanted three times. We hope they have found their permanent home now, on our solar homestead...

    cheers!

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  4. Robb,

    What an awesome story. I can only imagine how cool it is to hike deep into the Ruahines and then see a symbol of your son. That alone would be motivation to go on yet another hike (or tramp as you New Zealanders call it).

    One thing I have learned as I have gotten older is that sometimes it is the ancient tribal traditions that are best. A tradition like you describe really connects to the growing "sense of place" I have in the world.

    Our white pine, as well as your birch tree, helps us connect to something much larger than ourselves.

    Take care my friend.

    Larry

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  5. That was an inspiring story!

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  6. Very touching story. I like the symbolism. The white pines surrounding our new home in the woods were planted by my wife and I 35 years ago. We never imagined, at that time, selling our home and building a new one in our woods. Now they protect and shelter us from the storm.

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  7. Donw,

    It is very special to watch trees thrive and grow. This past spring we again looked into the possibility of moving. Although there were many reasons to stay put, not wanting to dig up and transplant the white pine one more time was certainly discussed.

    We are now committed to staying here and watching our family and our tree grow.

    Take care,

    Larry

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  8. Allan,

    It's good to here from you again. It shows my ignorance, but I did not realize that olive trees even grew in the U.S. In my mind I just assumed they were trees from the middle east.

    Nice to have a fruit producing tree on the land.

    Take care,

    Larry

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  9. KB,

    Thanks for checking out the blog, and I'm glad you liked the story.

    Larry

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  10. TB,

    I hope I am around in 35 years to see what our tree looks like. I'm sure by then it will have taken over much of the front yard.

    Take care,

    Larry

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