A week or so ago I got a call from my Aunt Coleen. Not a common occurrence by any means, and I instantly wondered what was up.
Well, Dad's sister has always had a bit of a green thumb, and she'd decided she wanted to plant a tree in memory of Dad. Not just any tree either but a sugar maple, to remember one of Dad's hobbies of making maple syrup.
But the next bit of the conversation needed my help.
"Rod," she said, "I want you to pick the spot on the farm."
There was no pressure in the moment, and I think she knew me well enough to know I'd need some time to think about it.
I explained that we were in the middle of lambing, spring planting, and first-cut hay season, so it wasn't exactly ideal timing, but I promised to stay in touch and we'd find a gap somewhere.
So I set to work... while sitting in the tractor.
Thinking...
Thinking...
Where should we plant the tree?
My first thought was somewhere I wouldn't destroy it someday with a piece of equipment. Somewhere that no matter what happened to our farm in the future, there would never be a reason for anyone to cut it down.
I needed a spot with little commercial value. Somewhere where production and practicality wouldn't someday win the argument.
I came up with a little corner at the back of a field along a ditch. An odd-shaped piece where the tree could stand forever out in the middle of things.
Then we got a rain day, and it was time.
Sunday afternoon was picked.
But by then I wasn't quite sure anymore. Partly because the rain had turned things muddy and getting back there would be a challenge. So I had a quick chat with Anne and a new spot was chosen.
And honestly, I couldn't be happier.
Aunt Coleen and Uncle Dale, my oldest cousin Cathy her husband Terry and Mom showed up, and we headed over.
Not to the back of the farm.
Right beside the barn lane.
Coleen asked me where I wanted it, and I walked out into the corner of the little hay field we call the Triangle Farm — too small and awkward to really crop farm properly.
I walked a little way off the lane. The little creek behind me. Far enough from the road that it should never become a problem.
"Yep," I said. "This is the spot."
The shovels came out, and the tree was planted.
But what I didn't say to anyone in that moment was why I only walked as far off the lane as I did.
It's a pretty small field, and sugar maples become very large trees.
I stopped because I needed to leave space.
Space for another few trees.
The first of which I gazed over and could already see where my tree might someday go.
And beyond that... space for more.
Thanks Aunt Coleen, for the gesture.
I think it will bring me peace when I need it, and joy to the farm for decades... perhaps even centuries... to come.
Farmer Rod
