Humble beginnings
Three trees transplanted, in (just over) three days. The humble beginning (roots?) of an arboretum? Maybe. And one is technically a bush, not a tree, but it still required just as much preparation and elbow grease to go from a silly plastic pot to firmly placed in a locale with ready sunlight and moisture. Now the big wait begins.
Planting a tree (or anything else) is an act of faith. No guarantee given that the rooting will be real, or that there won’t be a sudden devastation caused by storm or pest. I really don’t know how they’ll look, a year from now. Or what else will be in that area of the lawn (remember, an arboretum).
Of course, I’m ready to dream big. What about going for a walk in the woods (the real woods) and finding just the right sapling. Fully identified, by leaf and bark. Certified healthy because of its origins. I’ve tried going from a tiny seed with trees; I won’t live long enough to bask in the shade. Better to give nature a helping hand (ignore the calluses). Maybe tomorrow I’ll grab the shovel and a small pail, and go up the lane. Or down. Surely the neighbour won’t miss a single sprout, among so much greenery?
I’ve been told to think outside the box, so this will all have to happen after we go for breakfast. “Extra coffee, please. I’m on a mission”. And the forecast says that the rain won’t start until after I’ve had a chance to scout the area. Best leave the dog behind; he gets distracted.
