That was some round of storms Saturday. As you have probably seen, the ancient elm tree at the TB Ferguson Home was a casualty. Luckily the house next door and the Ferguson itself were spared.
I usually enjoy starting plants, coaxing them from seed or clips from other plants to create a new plant. Some of the African violets in the window of the newspaper office began life as leaves stolen – I mean appropriated – from the county elections office and the Community State Bank of Canton. I have been known to stop along the road and scoop up a tree seedling destined to be mowed down by a county crew. It probably isn’t quite legal, but it was always the plant that mattered.
With finances being what they are, I don’t think the Ferguson Home can afford a nice smallish tree to replace our huge, dead elm. Trees are very expensive, even small ones.
But while watching cleanup crews around town, an idea occurred to me. What if I approach the county commissioners and politely ask to snip one or more of the shoots from the base of their courthouse sycamore tree? Several of them are producing the little upstarts. They need to be trimmed. I know they can be propagated because I have done it before.
The courthouse trees are truly magnificent. And a small one planted at the Ferguson would eventually grow into a similar beautiful tree that gives glorious shade and lives far longer than I will. Some at my childhood home were well into their 70s before they began to show their age. I think it offers some continuity for a tree from the courthouse, a place TB and Elva must have known well, to provide a new tree for their former home.
There is something about planting trees and dreams in a place, knowing, if they are good trees or dreams, they will outlive the one who planted them. And if they no longer fit in the space or begin to infringe on the trees or dreams of others, they can be trimmed, or taken out, and new ones put in their place.
But until then, for just a few more days, I am going to grieve over the loss of that giant tree that saw so much history pass under her branches.
Then, I will go begging and see if I can locate a new start. For the tree, and maybe for the dream to grow as well.