Discovering My Parental Identity
When the phrases “Girl Dad” and “Boy Mom” started to appear, I took a moment to see what labels I might ascribe to myself about the nurturing I’m doing in the world.
Since you don’t really parent Chihuahuas, but rather mentor them, I had to think for a moment about whether I had children. And gentle reader, it turns out, I’m a Tree Mom.
Meet the Twins: Ashley & Ramona
I currently live with my spouse, and four apprentice Chihuahua mixes, while raising two Raymond Ash trees (twin girls Ashley and Ramona). I don’t know if they are genetically female, but they present to me as such. I planted them fourteen years ago, and as I pen this, they are both blocking our front window from the prying eyes of those who dwell across the street.
Ashley: The Overachieving Eldest
Ashley, the more robust of the two, sports a trunk over 20 inches around. She helped herself to the sewer main and shot up to nearly 30 feet.
Ramona: The Wonky-But-Wonderful Sister
Her downhill sister Ramona (bless her heart) is smaller and asymmetrical, but we still love her. And now it appears her rootball has connected with Ashley’s and she’s getting the benefit of additional nutrients.
In the fall their leaves are deep red and burgundy, a striking image against a typical bluebell sky. I have charged outside to scold a contractor for wiping caulk off his hand onto Ramona’s trunk while packing up his work truck. I’ve had conversations with box truck drivers attempting to park too close to the curb and Ashley’s lower limbs, fearful they’ll drive away and leave my baby shorn and broken in their wake.
My Firstborn: Frances the Silver Maple
Ashley and Ramona aren’t my first. You see, I was a young Tree Mom, planting my first the year I turned three, from a whirly gig. Frances is a Silver Maple, and in the autumn her leaves turn gold. In the spring, samaras drop in huge spinning clouds to litter the lawn below her. She’s now 53 years old, 40 feet tall and nearly as wide. Her home in central Illinois is known for brutal winters and scalding summers: she has survived more than a few ice storms that ended smaller, weaker trees on the same street.
Of course I adore her and visit whenever possible. I’m still tempted to climb her: she forked so wonderfully close to the ground, making a quick scramble possible without undue injury.
The Worries Only a Tree Parent Knows
The life expectancy of Frances is 65 to 100 years. As a soft maple, she’s prone to many life-threatening diseases and pests:
- fungal infections like verticillium wilt or anthracnose
- powdery mildew
- pathogens like phytophthora
- bacterial leaf scorch
- aphids, spider mites, and mealy bugs
- A rogue insurance assessor with a grievance against soft maples that may deem her too great a threat to the roof
But for Frances, I worry about the one thing I feared most when I lived in the middle of that state. Tornados.
Frances has the unfortunate luck to be planted on a commonly traversed pathway for spring and summer tornados. I know the day I learn of her demise and removal will be a day of great mourning. And I’m sad she’ll never meet her younger sisters, Ashley and Ramona. But until then, each time I think of her, I will enjoy the parental pride and surety that she is the most perfect acer saccharinum on the planet, and she is loved, and she is mine.
