So, I took a break from picking up litter this weekend to rescue some trees. I’ve rescued dogs and a cat from various centers, but never rescued a plant before. My neighbor has built himself a new house, and planned to trash a row of sweet little trees that stood between our two homes… until another neighbor double-dog dared me to move them. How did she do that? She simply told me it could be done… that’s a double-dog dare to a guy.
I’ve never moved a tree before this weekend. But after a few hours yesterday evening and about six today… around twenty little trees have a new home in various places around my yard. Some will still offer a screen between our two houses and others line our front fence. Once we get a bird bath in with a couple of feeders, this will definitely be a choice picnic yard.
My wife and I have joked about it, but we like to eat outside. I think we’re the only folks in our neighborhood who will eat dinner in their front yard. (Enter background banjo music.) I promise we always leave the squirrels alone! But ya know, maybe if we all ate in our front yards every now and again we’d all be a little more attuned to ebb and tide of litter washing up and down our streets? Who knows, maw.
I haven’t done any gardening work or really anything with plants since we lived in Africa and I grew veggies and tended our fruit trees. It felt good… goooooooooooood. My back is sore, sure. But it was nice to grub around out there and watch the birds picking through the yard and turned soil. Please, say a little prayer for my trees… they are my first transplants, and I didn’t go to medical school! The whole experience was a blessing for me, and I’m praying it was a blessing for the trees, too. I’ll know in a month.
For now, the little trees are as yet unhugged, but out of harm’s way. If they survive the transplant ya’ll have to come over for a cookout, soon… in the front yard.