The Gift of Trees
Live oaks are practically worshiped here in Savannah. My street is lined on either side with twisted, old live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. In the summer, our front yard is the preferred spot during the hot days, as the oaks shade and cool, and the movement of the Spanish moss can fool you into thinking there really is a breeze. When we were renovating our home, I went to the Georgia Historical Society hoping to find an old photo of our home. At some point someone had replaced what were once casement windows with aluminum sliders. I'm tempted to go off on a rant against replacing wooden windows with vinyl ones, but will save that for another day. There were no photos of our home, but I did enjoy going through the hundreds of photos of Ardsley Park. I came away with an even greater appreciation for the original plan for our neighborhood. Seeing the photos or Ardsley Park without trees or only saplings was like seeing a totally different neighborhood. In my side yard, there is an old flowering cherry that does not flower and I just can't seem to get around to establishing a feeding regimen to produce blooms. I considered taking it down at one point and replacing it with a more suitable specimen, but never got around to that, either. Now almost daily, my daughter climbs that old flowering cherry (that does not flower) and I feel gratitude to the unknown gardener who planted it. Did she imagine that some day a beautiful child would climb up to her favorite reading spot to relax with a book?