Life Lessons from the Ugly Tree

Many years ago,

when we moved into our brand new home in a brand new neighborhood, there was no landscaping as we know it in the suburbs – grass, foundation shrubs, ornamental shrubs, trees and flowers. There was dirt all around the house, and weeds, lots and lots of weeds. There were some hawthorn trees in the very back of the yard; one of them had a long rusted nail in its trunk with an old aluminum pail hanging from it, which led me to imagine the entire area as an old farm that had been sold to the city.  There were a few crabapple trees the school district grounds people had planted here and there at the border of the school fields with our property. There was also a line of tall ash trees, along the school border; they died a few years later because of the emerald ash borer. It seems the woodpeckers dug holes in the trees looking for their favorite beetle for food, but they didn’t eat them fast enough to save the trees. I digress..

 

We had neighbors who had recently moved into their brand new homes as well; some of them had already landscaped their yards being there before us. Fences were not allowed in this neighborhood, so it was fascinating to see how they had managed without them. Some planted trees to give themselves privacy – a green screen to protect them from prying eyes. Others planted trees to mark their territory. Here’s where your land ends and mine starts. Still others left it wide open with only grass to give the illusion of a bigger yard, and/or to wait for whoever moved next door to do the planting.

 

We had an odd shaped lot, a stretched out pentagon.  They were all pretty odd shaped since they were on two cul-de-sacs butting into each other. At the far left side of our property, our neighbor John’s (not his real name) yard’s very narrow  edge met the last five feet of our land.  One day, I watched him meticulously design that five foot border from my kitchen window. He put three logs on top of each other to build a mini fence right on the property line and at the edge of it he planted a small  two foot shrub, (an arborvitae), making sure the root ball was sitting perfectly on that border line. Then he beautified his side of it with benches, wisteria on a trellis, even an apple tree like I had planted. He crammed them all close to each other, as if they would stay that size forever. It was quite lovely, then…

 

Many more years passed.

The little evergreen bush/tree kept growing taller and taller. John sold his house; the new neighbors were not interested in this tiny, thin, far corner of their yard, so it got completely ignored, overrun by weeds. No one came to sit on the wood benches, the wisteria and the apple tree died, and wild vines climbed up the lonely arborvitae that was about 10 feet tall now.

And what an ugly tree it had become!

Bent over under the pressure of the vines, it looked like a green monster with crazy hair growing every which way. It was not visible at all to the owner of that property, but it was in my view every single day.

I resented that poor ugly thing. It ruined the beautiful view of my yard, like a sore in the landscape, a blemish on a beautiful canvas. Ugly, ugly, ugly tree!

 

 

 

 

One day last month I was sitting at my Sit Spot in complete stillness.

 

I had walked there quietly like a fox, I was looking at my surroundings with owl eyes and listening with deer ears. I could smell freshly dug dirt and a whiff of sweet fragrance from the few flowers on the small lilac behind me. I loved the warmth of the sun on my skin and welcomed the gentle breeze making it so much more pleasant. It was blissfully peaceful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You might be wondering about this Sit Spot thing.

 

It was part of a 30 day program offered by the Sagefire Institute, where I sat on purpose.outdoors in nature.at my selected spot.for at least 30 minutes.every single day.rain or shine. The first miracle for me was to be able to look at weeds and not get up to pull them out! After a few days I loved it so much that I sat longer and longer. No, it wasn’t time wasted, it was an incredibly satisfying experience, teaching me so many things about nature and myself, the similarities, differences and life lessons. So much so that, I continue to practice it every chance I get now.

 

That day, I had sat long enough for the birds to get over their fear and come back to the feeders just a few feet away from me. I watched a pair of mourning doves claim their spots in the big open feeder, swinging gently with it, and the smaller birds push each other around the different feeding holes, then I followed their in-unison-flight to neighboring trees and back, with my peripheral vision. I laughed at the squirrels trying to push the chipmunks out of their way underneath the feeders, where they foraged for dropped delicacies, frustrated that they couldn’t climb the pole up to where the treasure was.

 

 

 

 

 

I listened for the different bird songs in the trees behind me, the cardinal’s distinctive catcall-ish tone, the sweet chirping of the chickadees and sparrows and I accepted the drone of the tractors mowing the neighborhood lawns and pretended they were the bass for the birds’ melodies.

The ugly tree was in my view, as always.

 

I had learned to ignore it, pretend it wasn’t there, but this day I had no choice but notice it because my lovely birds kept flying to it, whispering things and flying back. A robin flew and perched on its tip, sitting there for what seemed like an eternity. (In retrospect, I think it was a conspiracy) And then it hit me! The birds saw it as a desirable tree! They didn’t care if it was bent and ugly. The robin didn’t care if his trees were pretty or not!

Suddenly I saw it in a different light.

 

None of it was the tree’s fault! It had been ignored, overcrowded, burdened by the demands of neighboring vines, even bent under the pressure, yet it stood there, still glorious in its evergreen coat. I felt a surge of love for it. I had known it since it was a little bitty baby!

 

Ah my ugly, ugly tree! What are you trying to teach me?

 

How many times do we shun people without knowing their circumstances, their paths in life, their lessons to learn. How many times they get ignored because of their looks or life situation. What did they have to endure? Were they deserted, dumped on, crowded out of their own little corners?

Everyone has a story, specially the outcasts, the unpopular, the unwanted.

Let’s treat them all with kindness.

It’s easy to love the shiny people, but every single human being shines on the inside.

Let’s show compassion for all.

Samson, as I’ve renamed the ugly tree, is doing well. We talk a bit every day on my walks through the garden and I’m working on loosening the strangling grip of the vines around him as I promised him, even though he’s not mine.

 

 

All photos are from my garden.