I Planted Trees Recently.
Well, okay—I paid someone to plant some trees recently.
We live in the suburbs in a beautiful neighborhood where you can see your neighbors every time you look out the window. We like our neighbors very much, but I don't necessarily want to watch the live-action broadcast of their lives playing out in our backyard. We also have some incredible living space back there in the form of a partially covered patio we had installed last year. It has a built-in firepit that is aesthetically appealing and a real joy to use. The only problem? Zero privacy. Two houses sit right on the opposite side of our fenceline.
So, to combat living in a fishbowl, we had a row of emerald green arborvitae planted along the back fence.
Here's the catch: They're three feet tall.
Those trees "ain't blockin' shit" --yet, and probably won't for a few years. Am I so far gone into the early throes of dementia that I had no idea these trees were so small? No. I did this because I'm cheap.
To give you some backstory, my family loves trees. Like, really loves them. I grew up on an intentionally and exceptionally wooded 3-acre plot of land. I remember my dad being outside all the time "planting trees"—though in reality, I think he just liked the peace of being outside. Over the course of his tenure there, he probably planted hundreds of trees. That is not an exaggeration.
This obsession with greenery started with my grandmother, who originally cultivated the land from a barren brick factory (true story) into the lush landscape it is today. Out of the three generations that have lived there, it was my grandmother and father responsible for its majesty. Shoot, we had so many varieties of trees on our property—over fifty—that middle school classes would take field trips to our house just to collect leaves for school projects. You could definitely say we had a little bit of "privacy" there. If by privacy, you mean a literal Fortress of Solitude.
BEHOLD!
Now that you have the backstory, you can understand my deep-seated desire for a secluded backyard. So, what's the point of this musing? I don't know that I have a specific point, except that much like a glass ketchup bottle, good things come to those who wait.
I have found that planting something and watching it grow is a slow, boring, and miraculous experience. Trees usually don't grow perfectly. Sometimes they get sick, and sometimes they need a little pruning.
I'll lean fully into the dad cliché here: planting trees is a lot like raising my two girls. It takes time, patience, water, food, and a solid foundation to grow them into beautifully cultivated adults who, I hope, flourish because of the effort we put into them.
So the next time someone asks me why I only planted three-foot trees in the backyard, my answer will be simple: "Because I like watching things grow."
Dad out... to water some trees.