It takes a little mothering.

Spent a lot of time over the weekend planting and pondering.  Wondering what will grow there, what will look nice here.  I am changing my mind on what needs to happen at my bridge almost daily, and am even considering a pond of all things.   

My town has an Arbor Day tree give-away.  It’s really spectacular when you think about it.  Yes, the trees are tiny, just little saplings.  But, this commission, this group of people, want you to grow trees.  They offer trees for free, but accept donations, so that you can grow a tree or two.   I visited the event on Saturday and secured about 15 saplings, mostly dogwoods.  It will take a number of years before these little saplings produce anything close to a bloom. 

How exciting it is to plant a tree and watch it grow, bloom, shade.   They do require care, lots of water and, in my woods, keeping those dang maple trees, basswood and sassafras from wanting to choke them out.  I spent quite a bit of time pulling out maples and basswood over the weekend, forgetting to count as I tossed them in to a wheelbarrow.  Seems contradictory, doesn’t it? Planting trees while pulling trees out, muttering bad words under my breath? 

I kind of like it.  Ripping out those scraggly trees, those scrubs, those parasitic, sun grabbers, nutrient stealers…and clearing the way for a sweet sapling that, given nurturing and care, will grow and bloom.  I like walking the woods and checking on the new plantings every day.  Making sure they are getting what they need, inspecting each branch and leaf bud, checking for growth. 

Are these trees, these new saplings, satisfying a need to raise? To mother? Quite possibly…but that sounds a little bit like lunacy.  Don’t spread that around, okay?