I remember my tree – a holly. Last time I saw it, in my twenties, it was taller than me, which now that I think about it, was probably always the case. My grandfather had planted it in his Tulsa backyard when I was born, so the tree already had a head start.
When each successive grandson was born, we planted a tree in each one’s honor in the yard at our house. A flowering cherry for Gerry, a peach for Gabe (which actually produced peaches, although the squirrels always beat us to them), and a Japanese maple for Eli. Sadly, we left them behind (trees, not grandsons!) when we moved, but at least we planted them in the front of the yard so it will still be possible for us to drive over and check on their progress.
Now here we are in Condo Land, with brand-new twin grandgirls. We do have a generous backyard and a couple of flowerbeds, but anything as large as a tree would need board approval since all land is really common ground.
What to do? Guerrilla gardening with a midnight raid of shovels and baby trees?
I was thinking that since we’re now on the girly side of things, how about a couple of frilly azaleas up against the woods?