PLANTING

Over the past few weeks I have been planting trees, tiny saplings no taller than three feet. Some are destined to become tall bushy shade trees. Some are evergreens. I've found joy in the process, though it has not been an easy task.

The soil in Wyoming is dry and rock-filled, some clay. The digging is difficult, requiring not only a shovel but a pick. My hands have developed blisters beneath calluses. Watering of the newly planted trees is a long process. Hoses must be carried to close proximity. Often ice still fills the hoses in the early part of the day. Care must be taken to fill the wells without damaging the tender roots just below the surface. The wind is already trying to bend over the frail trunks. I suppose there are reasons for so few trees in my desert home.

Planting requires a certain amount of faith, hope in nature's certainty. Natural laws say that what you plant will grow, if provided with what it needs. The very act of putting a seed in the ground, is an expression of belief in it's ability to flourish. A sunflower seed will produce sunflowers. An acorn will produce an oak tree. A tomato seed will produce a plant full of round, red, edible tomatoes. A zucchini seed will produce enough squash to feed the neighborhood! Our part is to dig and plant and water and fertilize and save the plant from weeds. We look to the sun and earth and the seed itself to do the rest. Each growing thing is its own miracle really.

Planting is worth the effort, even recognizing that as many as 60% of my little trees may not survive the brutal elements of our climate. My careful choice of species and constant vigilance may not be enough to help some of them "fill the measure of their creation". But I have hope that twenty years from now, on any given summer afternoon, you will find me sitting beneath one of my trees sipping lemonade and reading a good book. And so I plant.