A Little Chinquapin

1. A New Addition

Yesterday morning there were two trees across the street, scraggly and lame. Two Ash trees that have begun their slow decline, with large leafless branches already hanging out over the street. But by the early afternoon, there was a third tree: a little Chinquapin Oak standing between the two, staking out its new spot in a sunny spot of greenery under an open patch of blue recently cleared from the canopy with the help of a borrowed chain saw. I know -- it's late in the year to be planting a tree as the heat is well upon us. Whatever.

2. Feinted Rain

In the early evening, as I sat in the gathering dusk admiring the Chinquapin from afar, its broad leaves rustling in the breeze, the sky turned dark. White teeth descended from the cloud deck that was advancing from the west. The air was cool. A breeze picked up. The promise of rain was in the air. Tree branches up and down the street began to swing wildly in the wind. A few first drops of rain began to fall. I sat there smiling, celebrating for the tree. But then the drops stopped, the wind dropped, the black sky turned light again, and the storm was gone as quickly as it had come. My smile had been premature.

3. Tempests of Fury

In the dark last night, a flash and crash lit up the sky and shook the walls of our house. The power went out and snapped back on. Within moments wild gusts of wind were again shaking the trees up and down the block, and moments after that the rain began to fall. It came down in white sheets whipped into a frenzy by swirling tempests of fury. It poured off the eaves of the house. It ran down the driveway and streamed in a torrent around the corner of the house. I sat on a bar stool in the garage with the door open looking out into the storm, peering into the darkness wondering about the little Chinquapin. It was getting its rain, I thought, and I smiled to myself.

4. The Morning After

This morning the sky was blue and only a few puddles and some fallen twigs and branches told of what happened last night. The air was cool and sweet. White clouds floated above the canopy of the trees. The grass seemed greener than it was just yesterday morning when I collected my shovel, adze, and rock phosphate into a wheel barrow and sneaked across the street to plant a tree. I looked across the street to where it now stood, broad green leaves showing no signs of complaint. It must have been smiling. I was. What a glorious day to be a tree!

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