I think that I shall never see / A poem lovely as a tree
In my early childhood, I chose to recite the poem “Trees” by Joyce Kilmer for a school talent show. All these years later, it occurs to me that I have had a favorite tree in nearly every town I’ve lived in. It’s not that I look for a favorite – it starts out as a subtle introduction between the tree and me, an almost incidental curiosity, that gradually develops into a beckoning and a relationship of sorts, if one can indeed have a relationship with a tree.
I was 5 or so when I fell in love with a massive eastern sycamore in New Jersey. I think at the time it represented stability, strength and peace in my otherwise chaotic life. I would sit under it and watch the birds, the squirrels, and the leaves twirling to the ground in the fall. Then, there were delicate but not fragile weeping willows, massive 200-year-old white oaks, a particularly intimidating honey locust with its 8-inch thorns, and my first and only sassafras tree when we lived in Tennessee.
And out here in Arizona, it’s a western sycamore in a small pull-off on the way up to Gardner Canyon in Sonoita that claims most favored status. It has a welcoming presence that somehow offers serenity, a reprieve from what feels like a growing turbulence around us.
Since I’m a nature artist and avid birder, I probably first noticed this tree because of the intriguing color variations of its trunk. My first memory of the tree was when I was headed up Gardner Canyon in 2016 to try to find a red-headed woodpecker, which is rare for these parts. Since then, I’ll always pull in to have a look at it to see if it’s hosting any birds before heading further up the canyon. Over the years, I’ve seen various birds in that mini-grove but probably only photographed the sycamore once or twice. I believe I took this photo in 2023, when I was watching a juvenile pair of Harris’s hawks, a somewhat unexpected species for those parts.
Trees can be grounding and healing. Call me crazy but that’s why I love them. It feels almost poetic that my connection to trees has come full circle back to a sycamore – this time a western sycamore. I, too, think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree.
Previously in “Great Trees of Eastern Santa Cruz County”:
“The contorted oak of Piper Gulch” by Wayne Tomasi
“The Grand Sycamore of Harshaw Road” by Angie Soto Jessup
“The Mesquite on Santa Rita Ave.” by German Quiroga
“The Cottonwood at the Lochiel Schoolhouse” by Angie Soto Jessup
“A Most Magnificent Cottonwood in Canelo” by Bill Steen
“Elgin’s Movie Star Cottonwood” by Sue Downing
“The Wise Old Emory Oak of Mowry” by Perin McNelis
“A Pleistocene Juniper” by Jim Koweek
“The Leaning Pine of Duquesne” by Bekki Jaynes
“The Hollow Tree of Harshaw Townsite” by Cassina Farley
“The Mexican Blue Oak of Sonoita Creek” by Vince Pinto
Do you know a great tree? Submit photos (or artwork!) and a description of your favorite tree to prtadast@gmail.com. It can be any tree on public or private property in Eastern Santa Cruz County. (You don’t have to disclose the tree’s exact location unless you want to.) Tell us what makes the tree great: maybe it’s the tree’s size, shape or age; or its leaf color; or the animals and insects who inhabit it; or the special events or family traditions associated with it; or perhaps something more personal. Whatever it is, share it with us. Let’s celebrate our area’s natural splendor and heritage!