Tale of two trees, lower case

by Woody

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Tale of two trees,

lower case

This is a story of two trees, lower case, not Ventura’s famous “Two Trees” holding sentinel high on a hillside overlooking the city below.

In the city below, at a public park, grow two trees that are separated not by a few paces, as with our landmark tandem, but by the ball’s flight of a major league home run. Despite their distance apart, the two trees stand united in how they are tended.

Let me begin with the taller tree of the lower-case pair. It is not majestic in height, perhaps twice taller than a man, but makes up for it with an explosion of foliage. This abundance of leaves is surprising, if not almost magical, because the tree rises in a hard-packed dirt field beyond reach of sprinklers.

As you might imagine, recent years of drought were not kind to the tree and it became sickly. In truth, it nearly died. To the rescue, thankfully, came a guardian angel – or, rather, an amateur arboriculturist.

Ventura’s famous “Two Trees” holding sentinel.

This timber guardian is a middle-aged man. He parks his car, ironically often under the shade of a much grander tree, and strolls over to the once-sickly tree. With him he carries a jug of water, sometimes two, which he pours with care at the base of the tree’s truck.

Every time I watch this benevolent act – always from afar, for to intrude would seem like interrupting someone at prayer – it brings birdsong to my heart. Too, it always makes me recall this thought from John Wooden: “The true test of a man’s character is what he does when no one is watching.”

Or, when he thinks no one is watching.

As I observe, the wise words of Nelson Henderson, who died more than three-quarters of a century ago, also come to my mind: “The true meaning of life is to plant trees under whose shade you do not expect to sit.”

Or, to water them.

Exemplifying Henderson’s words even more exactly is a second man. He is a bit younger than the first and is caretaker of a smaller tree; a tree with a thin trunk splitting in two near its base; a tree he actually planted. I know the latter fact because our paths crossed once while he was tending it and we got to talking.

I will not tell you where this tree is specifically located because it is not supposed to be there. Honestly, it looks perfectly placed and the spot would be empty without it. If you ask me, planners of the park should have planted a tree here themselves.

Since they did not, the second man did. Importantly, he did so in memory of his deceased dog that he used to take for walks nearby. Every few weeks, the caretaker comes by and waters the little tree. When need be, he clears away dead leaves. Now and again, he adds fertilizer. One can easily envision the tender love his dog received.

I wish you could see these two men at work – no, at service, for their efforts bring beauty for countless others to enjoy. Perhaps you have seen them during their service. Even when the clouds are out, “their” two trees bring sunshine to my day.

As I said, these two trees are not the grandest by any measure. But the story behind them is as lovely as Joyce Kilmer’s well-know poem “Trees” with the famous closing couplet: “Poems are made by fools like me, / But only God can make a tree.”

And sometimes it still takes a person, or two, to tend them with care.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Check out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …