Giving Trees

In our backyard in Los Angeles, there stood a gorgeous, massive Chinese Elm tree that was sixty or seventy years old. When I first came to see the house before I bought it seven years ago, I was absolutely besotted by this tree. It was strong, sturdy, its branches twisting into the sky, majestically. I cannot say I’m a nature person, but I love trees. They can be so beautiful, and they do so much for our world, while asking for so little in return.

The first thing I did, before moving in, was have the tree wrapped in sparkly lights. It was an indulgence but one I was very comfortable making. That began a years-long saga of trying to keep the tree brightly lit while the backyard squirrel, a real glutton, nibbled away at the wires, forcing me to have it rewrapped over and over and over because I was not going to lose this war even though I continued losing every single battle. In late November, I had the tree trimmed and rewrapped. This was the last stand, I told myself. If the squirrel gorged himself on the lights again, I would concede that he had bested me, once and for all. And then I saw the tree glittering in the night and I wasn’t so sure.