Once upon a time a long time ago in a family Christmas far away I received a tree in a Secret Santa gift exchange. It was a cute fluffy evergreen looking thing with tiny little needles covered in glitter...Lots of glitter. It was the kind of gift no one else wanted.
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| This is the best picture I have of the tree in its original form, cropped from a much larger picture. It is the one in the red pot. | |
No one but me, that is, because as soon as that tree fell into my lap I was besotted. It was just too cute! Also, I have a thing for trees. There's something about how tall they get, about the branches that grow outwards like nature's ultra-climbable jungle gym, and about the shade those branches provide, when you look up through the leaves and can catch a glimpse of the sky without being perpetually blinded by the sun. When I was a child I remember swearing a promise to myself in the middle of weeding one of my mother's six gigantic flower beds, "When I grow up I'm not going to have flower beds - I'm going to grow trees! You don't have to weed trees - you just prune and fertilize them once a year then they practically take care of themselves!" Plant perfection, as far as I was concerned.
This tree arrived at a clutch time in my life. It arrived the same Christmas that my dad died. .... (I just had this realization...). It was also at a time when I was struggling to learn the secret of how to keep house plants alive. (For more about my plant growing chronicles, you can read this entry). When I received this tree I remember dreaming of it one day growing into a large and proud Christmas-sized tree that could fit presents under it and be a shining example of my ability to keep plants alive! It was a symbol of life and hope in a world that had been rocked by the shadow of death.
... Nearly ten years pass by and this tree continues to grow in its pot. It moves with me back into my mother's home. My mom's cat decides that playing in the dirt in the pot is fun. We booby trap the dirt with plastic forks to keep the cat out. The cat is understandably upset about this. She starts to dig around the forks. We put more forks in the pot until the dirt is filled with point white spikes. It's s a true battleground standoff. The cat surrenders, and we win!
... The tree continues to grow. I move away, leaving the tree with my mother. "Please take care of it." I beg her, perhaps a bit unreasonably, thinking that one day I would return and this tree would be part of my life once again. She agrees like a saint, and keeps watering it despite the awkward amount of space it now commands in her office. The thing is, I don't return... instead I get my master's degree and get a job, deciding to stay in a city that is on the opposite side of the continent....
... The tree continues to grow. It now looks impossibly huge for its small pot having never been repotted in the ten years it has been alive. My mom buys a new home and needs to downsize. It's time for the tree to go. And me, still somewhat attached to this tree although I haven't lived with it in over five years ask "Do you think we could plant this on my aunt and uncle's property?" Yes, I knew my mother was moving, and was super busy and had no time or energy to her name. Yes, I felt like I was being a huge imposition on both her and on my aunt and uncle for asking to use their property for my thing. But, despite all this, I ask because it's my tree and I feel responsible for its life, even if it is a plant! I want it to live a full and happy life, a life I can no longer provide for it. Be free tree! Be free!
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| It's grown so big! |
I got this lovely picture from my aunt a few days ago. The tree has been planted in its new home with love and care, a large painted rock I once used as a doorstopper decorating the plot. My heart leaped with joy and excitement as I opened the message on my phone.
"What kind of tree is it?" My aunt texts me the question.
".... I don't know." I reply, explaining that I got the tree in a Secret Santa.
About few hours later she replies, "After a bit of research we came to the conclusion that "the tree" is perhaps a Norfolk Island Pine...which is usually available at Christmas time as a cute indoor mini alternative Christmas tree. It is apparently a tropical tree and is in no way suitable for our Canadian winters."
I stare at the text message mortified, then I start laughing. All that to-do about a tree, and it was doomed to begin with! All that effort put into preserving its life, and yet, alas tree, I fear this may be your last summer.
RIP: Tree.
2012-2021
