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John and I drove to the other side of Longmont today to a big tree farm with an excellent reputation. We wanted to get an education on planting an aspen tree—and keeping it alive.
I had pictured having to get someone to truck a huge tree into the foothills and plant it for us at great expense. What I learned, however, is that this is something John and I will be able to handle ourselves. It will be a memorial tree for Jeremiah True, our first grandson. We want to have it solidly started before November 16th, the first anniversary of his short hour of life.
We chose the aspen for several reasons. They're so beautiful, and the slightest movement of breeze makes the leaves quake and shiver. The trees seem to live vibrantly, growing in clumps with white-barked trunks similar to the white birch trees I loved as a child playing in Northern Michigan's woods. They grow swiftly, and are extremely disease resistant. For a non-gardener, it seems like a perfect match. I know how to water. That's what it will need from me.
Add a little bench and a garden memory stone, and we'll have a wonderful place to commemorate our first grandson. His life may only have lasted ninety minutes, but his impact lives on. I've been donating blood again, which I had gotten away from since moving to Colorado. That's one thing I can do.
Hopefully our son and daughter-in-law will be able to join us here in November. We'll have the tree dedicated on the 16th. We'd like the tree to live on as a reminder—our Jeremiah tree.
4 comments:
That will be a beautiful memorial for your grandson. "Quakies", as I call them, are one of my favorite trees. I grew up driving through forests of them often. I love the autumn contrast of the bright yellow quakies to the reds and oranges of the other trees.
From the budding leaves in the spring to the spattering of color in the fall, and the quiet snow laden branches in the winter if will be wonderful to follow the seasons with Jerimiah and his tree. His season on earth may have been unfairly short, but it sounds as though his memory will be preserved.
We have a small grove of those trees in Red Feather Lakes and they bring joy to every season.
PS Where in Northern Michigan? When I taught at MSU we would hang out in the Leelenau Peninsula in the summer.
Paul—
I was born in Iron Mountain, but most summers found us in Gwinn. I still have cousins there, and in Ishpeming and Marquette. I'm still addicted to blueberries. We'd pick them wild in the woods at Johnson Lake at my Grandpa's camp while Mama made pie crusts. By the time we came trooping back in with purple faces and full cups, she'd have the crusts rolled out. That night Daddy would always grin and say, "Once Mama made a pie."
A wonderful and ever growing rememberance for Jeremiah. And a difficult, but so important, reminder that we don't need much time to make an impact on those around us. Jeremiah had 90 minutes of life, but look how long his presence has been felt by those around him.
Blessings forever in his memory.
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