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.