A Nostalgic Look

By AnnaLee Austin

Trees have been an important part of my life for as long as I can remember. This essay is about the trees I have known during my lifetime in Iowa.

When I’m outside, or looking outside, my eyes always focus on the trees in the landscape. I love the flowers, shrubs and grasses too, but the trees are the center of my vision. The blue-green tones of the blue spruce; the dark branches of a sugar maple etched against the sky; the brown seed pods of the old fashioned ash tree that provides much refreshing shade on warm summer days are all part of the snowy view from my writing table on this January day.

As I look out the window to the west side of my yard I see the huge old pin oak my husband John faithfully “irons,” spring and fall. Because of the lack of iron in the soil on our farm in the south part of Marshall County, Iowa, he learned from the Iowa State University Extension Service that pin oaks need more iron in the soil to survive. To “iron” them, he uses iron tablets and a water hose hooked up to a root feeder. He and I agree that the cost and the labor (it takes him most of a day) is a small price to pay for the beautiful tree, now with some of its brown leaves still clinging to its branches. A few months ago, it was a wonderful bronzy-orange color, so beautiful that sometimes I stood under it to feel its color.

I think my love for trees was passed on to me from my tree loving father. I remember my Dad—a farmer—taking his after dinner (noontime) nap in the summer under the large, old box elder tree. That tree was there when my parents moved to the Iowa farm in 1939 when I was about two years old. The tree was located to the southwest of our small gambrel roof house. It gave great shade and the grass under it made a soft blanket to lie upon. It was a friendly tree, with two swings hanging from its branches. Some of the good memories I have of that tree include family picnics, lying under it looking through the branches to the clouds and dreaming, and swinging and playing with my brothers in its shade.

Then there were the weeping willow trees. They began as cuttings about four feet long and I remember they were kept in the water tank until they were rooted. Because my mother had always wanted these trees, it was exciting to have them planted. I don’t remember any special care they received and I believe that every tree grew. I also don’t remember anyone complaining about the branches to be picked up as the trees matured. Dad planted a row of them on the south side of the gravel driveway from the road to the front yard fence. They were the first green in the spring after a long Northern Iowa winter. The leaves were a delicate yellow green color swaying gently in the wind while everything else was black, brown, grey and white. The willows soon became lush green shade for us on the grassy strip of land along the drive and also for the young calves on the other side of the fence in the front pasture. Occasionally, there would be a pony or riding horse tethered to the fence in the hot summertime. What an awesome sight they were. I wish I could have painted them.

Perhaps for protection from the north winds, my father planted a large group of soft maples. They were planted fairly close together and I don’t remember a lot of grass under them but they provided shade for the lane going to the field and the barnyard. My brothers and I spent hours in the maple tree grove, making rooms from the fallen branches, sweeping the “floors” clean and improvising with whatever we could find to use as furniture for our play house.

Many years later, my husband and I had a house built on a lot that was in a cornfield, without a tree to be seen anywhere. I could hardly wait to begin planting trees. The first tree, planted even before the foundation was laid, was a gift from friends—a small silver maple seedling from their property. We planted it on the west side of the house-to-be and it grew very quickly, soon providing shade for the Westside bedrooms. With a tiny budget for landscaping, we bought small trees such as a seedless ash tree for the east side of the house and two sugar maples for the north edge of the property. I had visions that one day these trees would frame our rustic red house and in the autumn, with their blazing leaves, make a beautiful scene.

We also had four white birch trees which were brought home from southern Minnesota. With our five children loaded into our small Oldsmobile station wagon, the trees were taken home with the branches sticking out the back of the car. When we got home, all the leaves were gone, but undaunted we planted three of the trees in a clump on the east side of the yard and one on the west side. With their white bark and yellow autumn color, they were a great addition to our yard. The southern Minnesota birch trees were joined by two pine trees my dad brought back after a trip to northern Minnesota. We planted them on the south edge of the property next to the cornfield. We finished our tree plantings with a small deciduous tree planted next to the patio for future shade.
With little money for fertilizing the trees, we had to decide how to nourish them. I’d read somewhere that keeping a wide diameter of earth hoed or stirred up and watered around each tree provided good care for trees. I did this faithfully and put grass clippings around the trees too. The trees thrived and so did our growing family. One of our favorite activities was to take a walk around the yard to look over our trees and garden. The habit has persisted over the years and continues today. Eventually, we sold the home before the trees matured but I check on them every time we are back in the area.

Beside the early happy memories of trees, I’m reminded of the ornamental pear tree that I planted—with a son’s help—during my single life. It still makes me smile when I go out of my way to drive by the tree when I’m in the town. I especially love the shiny bright scarlet leaves in the autumn.

Then there was the park where I would go after a long stressful day as a social worker. There I would walk around the hard surface track until I was tired. Walking with my eyes on the large shade trees, it seemed that there was an aura around them. I always felt mentally and emotionally refreshed after completing my exercise.

One autumn, a few years ago, one of my sons and his wife asked us to look at a home they were considering buying. I have to admit the mature sugar maple in front of the house with its sunlit orange, gold and apricot leaves greatly prejudiced my opinion. And I’ve enjoyed seeing the color every fall.

There was a cluster of apple trees in the backyard of the rental house where we lived when the first four of the six children were quite young. I’ll never forget the fragrance and beauty, both of the blossoms and the apples that followed. Nor will I forget the froth of white plum blossoms at yet another house. I would cut small tips of branches for my granddaughters’ pastel plastic vases so they could take “bouquets” home to their mother. I could go on and on with special memories of trees in the places I lived in Iowa.

In 1998, I remarried and moved to my husband’s farm where the trees were abundant but that didn’t stop John and me from adding to the beauty of the farm with a sugar maple tree, a red oak, and plant a triangle of Robinson flowering crabapple trees. Some trees were gifts like the cherry tree and magnolia tree from one of my sons and his family. Sometimes the forces of nature required us to replace trees. We replaced an ancient fir tree that was protected when John built his log home but was taken by strong winds last spring. I can once again enjoy the beautiful leaves and autumn color from the Cleveland Pear tree as we drink our coffee on the deck. We’ve planted many long-needled white pine seedlings, only to lose more than half of them. The hardier wild cedar trees transplanted better to replace ones lost in the windstorm. I don’t think we’ll ever stop planting trees.

With that, we are back at the beginning where I sit at my old writing table, looking out of my slice of window at the winter landscape while I write and dream. I look forward to spring and the opportunity to plant another tree. Maybe this time it will be a Japanese maple, if I can find a site where its beautiful fine leaves will be backlit. Trees anchor and inspire me. They are alive and have an aura which gives me, I believe, energy as I look upon them or walk among them. Trees enrich my life.

In an old garden book, The Complete Book of Garden Magic, by Roy E Biles (1941), there is a paragraph I’ve pondered for years:

“Men cannot get along without trees. Apart from their practical value, they make for better manhood and womanhood by inspiring cleaner thoughts and higher ideals. The spiritual value of loving them and being with them is beyond estimate."

I think that statement is right, after all.