I used to lie in my bed at night as a child and stare at the tree in our front yard that towered outside my windows. As it swayed back and forth, its shadows danced across my room. I was both mesmerized and horrified. By day, this mighty Sycamore offered shade for my busy make-believe town filled with Matchbox cars one moment and Barbie and Ken adventures (dates) the next. My older sister used to climb high into its limbs. I was never so brave.
The American Beech in our backyard was a launching point for our somewhat risky sledding path, where we launched ourselves over the hill and headlong into trees and bushes until we finally hit the valley — and creek — below. Not the smartest thing we ever did. When that Beech was struck by lightning about a decade ago, part of it toppled into the yard below, creating an accidentally perfect climbing obstacle for my curious and adventurous kids and nephews.
These are the trees of my youth and their stories run through me.
But trees have continued to play an important role in my life. They are characters woven through my life story.
There’s the tree right down the road from me that arches over a cemetery in the most beautiful, protective way that I’ve been drawn to stand under it and photograph the light through its leaves as they burn bright in the fall.
There’s the Eastern White Pine I gifted my friends when they moved into their new home — a small, potted tree that now stands free in the soil, reaching taller every month.
I also often think about the two trees I planted during travels in other countries. I planted a tree on a mountainside in Cuba and one in a protected forest in Guatemala.
As I continue to study the effects of climate change, my passion for protecting trees and forests grows. Trees are life.
I have hugged trees, talked to trees, sat with them and apologized to them.
What’s your tree story? I’d love to hear.
Kasey Grau Jackson
Sierra Club Hoosier Chapter Executive Committee