My New Tree

The weirdest thing happened last July. OK, not the weirdest. Actually, not really all that weird. But it seemed pretty amazing at the time. It was the day of the Art & Wine Faire, and some friends of mine drove over so we could all stroll what I still think of as "the avenue" (lower case), even though it's Park Street (sue me). They parked in front of my house, up close to my car behind, leaving maybe four or five feet between them and my neighbor's way-nicer-than-mine car in front.

We left my place about noon and returned about three hours later to find that the largest branch of the tree in front of my house (don't ask me what kind of tree) had collapsed of its own weight. This branch had fallen just sideways enough to miss both my friends' car and my neighbor's, the thickest part between and the small branches leaning up against them without causing any scratches. We were impressed; the unlikeliness put it up there with that scene in Pulp Fiction.

I consulted with a couple of experts and we came to the conclusion that the tree was just really old, maybe as old as the house, 80 years or so. It was dying from the inside out, and there was a real risk of the rest of it falling down at some inopportune moment. So I got a tree guy to cut it down. And I went shopping for a tree.

I wanted to replace the old tree. First, I liked its very presence, its being there was gratifying; I'd never owned a tree before. Dogs, cats, fish, birds, a hamster, some houseplants, but never an actual tree. And second, I get some pretty serious afternoon sun, especially in the summer, and keeping the place reasonably cool can be a challenge. So a leafy tree that would provide some shade for the front window is indicated.

As I've mentioned, I grew up in New York City, so, y'know, extrapolate from that how much I'm likely to know about trees. I have a real affinity for trees and forests, though; indeed, there have been times when I've felt deep abiding harmony with trees. But even after my family moved out of the projects, we lived in this semi-detached urban monstrosity with no front yard worth the name (we used to joke about paving the lawn and painting it green). Shopping for a tree was a totally alien concept.

I looked up some stuff online, spoke with some friends-of-friends, talked to a nursery, and I. Was. Overwhelmed. I had no idea where to begin, what questions to ask. People kept on throwing formal names at me ("Oh, do you mean mightaswellis bemartianis?") and I would just stand there, mouth agape.

I lost count of the number of times someone recommended crepe myrtle or Japanese maple. Then the whole Park St. tree-removal disaster happened and it looked like we were going to be awash in crepe myrtle and Japanese maple. I had to find something at least a little bit different.

To my rescue came my buddy Skip. Although Skip is also from New York City, and from a neighborhood even more urbanized than mine, he's aware enough to actually have paid attention to that kind of thing, has done a little gardening, and knew what it was we needed to learn. He brought me to a couple of nice nurseries, one in Orinda in particular; a staffer there asked me about how much space I had, what kind of leafiness I wanted and all that, and we settled on Eastern Redbud. But that nursery only had larger ones; the prices were beyond my budget, and beyond my ability to easily bring home.

The holidays were approaching by then anyway, so I decided to put it off. Skip told me of a couple of nearby nurseries he liked, and I wrote 'em down. Meanwhile, I bought some fertilizer, some garden soil, started a hole, etc.

Finally got around to it this week and visited East Bay Nursery in Berkeley. Unfortunately, all I remembered was "Eastern Redbud" and "sercis" or "cersis" or "serkis" or "Circe" or something. Fortunately, however, they have a very nice guy named Bob who deciphered my gibberish and explained the different varieties available and helped me pick one that fit my budget and my car. A cercis canadensis, aka "Forest Pansy." Love those Canadians.

It was afternoon by the time I got back, so I thought I'd wait until the next day to actually plant it. But I wanted to be ready, so I mixed the fertilizer, cleared around where I'd started the hole… At that point, I just decided what the heck, let's do it. Finished the hole, planted the tree, filled it in, spread the fertilizer, gave it a watering; waited a day, then re-staked it.

Feels gratifying.