That's what she said last night.: November 2008

There is a tree in my yard that I hate. And maybe hate is a strong word to use against a tree, but every so often you come across one that really makes life difficult. Whether it’s at home, at work or even at church, it just becomes almost unbearable to deal with on a daily basis.

When we first moved to this house, we both contributed equally to our relationship. The tree sat there in my front yard doing normal tree things. Growing, photosynthesizing, hosting birds, flowering and whatever else trees do in their spare time. As the proud new homeowner, I did my time as tree owner. I raked leaves, picked up sticks, pruned the dead wood and even gave it some nice Christmas lights. As time went by however, things started to change.

Normally I’m a very tolerant person, but eventually those tree behaviors started to rub me the wrong way. For starters the tree won’t stop growing. It grew itself into a magnolia tree and is now entirely too big for the yard. In fact, I’ve had several visitors report that they almost missed the house because it’s hidden behind the tree. The shade has all but killed the lawn and those damn branches hang so low that if they’re not poking me in the eye then they’re scratching the top of my car. And I’m not just talking about normal external growth here either. The stories I have to tell about where sewage goes when it’s blocked by tree roots could be a whole new essay. Let me just say that I’m the president of the “sewer-snake” rental club.

This may sound a bit strange but I’ve spent quite some time analyzing this relationship. At one point I attempted fighting back against the tree’s natural tendencies. So I rented a chain saw and battled a few carefully picked lower limbs. Wielding this power tool actually made me feel good for a while. So good in fact, that I even considered chopping the whole thing down. Certainly this was an easy solution. Remove the offender forever. More work on the front end but certainly there would be rewards. Firewood, a new lawn, no more raking or cleaning the gutters, no more pokes in the eye and best of all, no more sewage where it didn’t belong. And while this seemed like a good plan at first, something was holding me back but I couldn’t quite tell what it was.

So I prayed for some guidance to find out if there was something wrong with my attitude. Maybe this tree suffered some childhood trauma like being an adult sapling of a late-bloomer and never learned proper social boundaries. Maybe it’s not my position to judge whether adult maple trees should cohabitate with magnolias. Or maybe I would be found guilty of tree-murder and the Sierra Club would have me arrested. But eventually however my eyes were opened and the truth was revealed.

There is ultimately one very redeeming quality about this tree that makes it worth keeping in my life. Granted, I have to wait patiently and the redemptive moment is always short-lived, but I’m never disappointed when the moment comes. Each and every fall my “friend” puts on the most spectacular and glorious display of foliage. The light greens, mixed with bright yellows and deep oranges would make you think you were staring at a picture postcard of Vermont. And eventually the entire show turns day-glow orange as the sun backlights the whole scene. Then the leaves fall and completely blanket the front yard in orange carpet. This is the day I love the tree in my yard.