The Not-Giving, Hateful, Horrible Tree

This is NOT about that giving tree, Shel Silverstein’s sad apple tree who was abused and abandoned after she gave all that she had for years in her attempts to please a narcissistic little boy.

Taking a bit of a detour and as an aside to that, Angel Girl read The Giving Tree to me — well, not really READ it, but she had memorized every single word and wanted to “read” to me, just like her big brother reads to me. Too adorable, right?

Angel Boy, sitting on my other side, was quick to report in a loud whisper, “She’s not really reading like ME, Grandma, you know that, don’t you?”

I replied, “I know, T, but she wants you and I to be proud of her, so we’re just going to go along with it and praise her efforts, aren’t we?”

After she finished “reading”, we chatted a bit about what the story was all about and Angel Boy said how much he didn’t like it because it was too sad for him to think about the poor tree and Angel Girl chimed in with the same sort of commentary, “He took it all, Grandma, and all she had left was a trunk for him to sleep on when he was old. That wasn’t very nice.”

I was impressed by their empathy and compassion.

And then, because these children NEVER miss an opportunity to point things out to me, she said, “And the man in the book is WAY OLDER than you are, Grandma.”

Ha Ha Ha. Thanks for that, my angel.

Back to my rant, but before I begin, I need to make sure everyone is completely aware about how much I love trees. I don’t even hate eucalyptus trees, but they’re a menace and never should have been planted as a residential street tree, especially so close to houses. I mean, it’s not like I have a colony of koalas in my backyard that need a regular source of food, don’t you agree?

What I’m going on a tirade about is a gigantic eucalyptus tree lives in the space between my house and my next door neighbor’s driveway. It’s a city-owned tree so we can’t do anything about it. No birds nest here; even THEY don’t like it.

The California Invasive Plant Council (CAL-IPC) classifies certain eucalyptus as a “moderate” invasive.

They’re a real fire hazard and can disrupt ecological relationships among species that co-evolved over millennia, which is why many groups work to remove eucalyptus and restore coast live oaks. If that’s not bad enough, limbs fall during storms, and the euc’s shallow root system contributes to the whole tree falling, both of which have killed people.

Volatile oils in eucalyptus trees fuel more intense fires which is enough of a reason to permanently remove this tree.

They are a hazard in every sense of the word. Back in the 1900s, these trees were imported from Australia and planted with the hope that they could be harvested and sold as railroad ties. Unfortunately, eucalyptus is a brittle wood and cracks easily, therefore was unsuitable.

Eucalyptus limbs, branches, and trees regularly fall with potential catastrophic injuries. Recently, one eucalyptus as large as mine fell near our elementary school and was removed. 

Last January in San Diego at Balboa Park, a eucalyptus tree was uprooted and fell on top of a woman, obviously causing injuries. 

In 2017, A man in his seventies was killed by a branch that fell from a eucalyptus tree at Holiday Park in Carlsbad.

This tree continually drops leaves and other litter on the street, our yards, the sidewalk, and rain gutters. Roots are invasive. The leaves and other tree litter can damage vehicle paint. 

I’m really sick and tired of cleaning up this kind of tree debris every week or so.

A few neighbors and I wrote letters to the city expressing all of that and requested the tree be removed. That request was denied. This isn’t the first time we’ve made an effort to get the city to do something about it, and you would think they would be intelligent enough to remove a potentially dangerous hazard, but all they suggested was that If we wanted to spend more than one hundred dollars, we could appeal the decision, but so far, we have not done that.

I met with our councilmember and to no one’s surprise, received no help at all. I’m working on a little show-and-tell with exhibits for a future city council meeting to prove my point and will update you to share all the details about well my plan was or was NOT received. Heehee.

This tree doesn’t give apples; it gives me angst and frustration.

Goodbye, Tree

A while back I wrote about A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and I’m guessing I could also call this post “A Tree Dies in SoCal”

Usually the loss of a tree I’ve lived with and loved for years feels like how I imagine a phantom limb might feel- a certain emptiness, a vacant unfillable void–like mourning the loss of a loved one, but this was different.

It actually feels lighter; freer–all in all a good decision that I had procrastinated about for years because I hate to destroy any living creature or growing thing.

The first cut is the deepest–I know those are song lyrics, but there’s a point you can’t go back, when the decision to cut down a tree is beyond the point of changing your mind. Too late to say WAIT, let me rethink things! You can always plant a new tree, right? Replace the old tree with a new one, right?

This was a ficus. I know ficus trees have invasive roots, I know they are much better as potted plants, but I seriously had thought this one was situated far enough away from the house so that it wouldn’t become a problem.

Then I looked under the deck and saw roots, which meant that it would only be a matter of time before there could be real damage to either the foundation or the plumbing.

It’s gone now, and I really don’t miss it at all. I’m thinking about what to plant as the empty space looks a little barren.

Maybe a fruit tree or two? Something that’s a bit more giving than the ficus which was definitely NOT an example of Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree–more like the TAKING tree, sucking all the life out of the plants around it and leaving a mess to clean up.

I feel as if I most deserving of some reciprocal quid pro quo in return for all my love and nurturing and caretaking.

Life Cycle of a Rose

Not about ME, haha,  but check out this most delicate ballet pink rose I’ve ever grown in the garden here at Casa de Enchanted Seashells.

The life cycle up to this point has been about a week long journey.

Just picked. The fragrance is so light and delicate. The very essence of a rose.

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The petals are starting to open a tiny bit more in response to the sun and being indoors.

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See the outer petals beginning to turn color? Still beautiful, though.

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This morning, in her full glory at five inches across. More discolored, faded, and less pink petals.

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Sweet rose. Almost at the end of her life, she selflessly shared all the joy and beauty she had to give. Soon, her petals will fall to the table and she’ll be gone.

How did this all get so depressing? Just like The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. Sheesh. I need to lighten up!

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And now this, the finality and death of a once beautiful and vibrant rose.

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Shaking off THAT doomed train of thought, here are more roses that I left unpicked in the garden.

Buds. Babies.

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I love the peach and red dual tone of these roses.

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Peppermint striped climbing roses. Very spicy fragrance.

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Finally, a rock rose, California native.

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All the rain we had in SoCal made a joyful garden.

Happy end of April and almost May, everyone!