My husband and I have both loved trees since we were teenagers. As a result of this love, we have grown four trees from seed on our property in Woodridge, Ill.

In 1984, I lived near the banks of the Little Calumet River in South Holland, Ill.

The spruce in this photo was given to me by a neighbor who worked for a large nursery in St. Charles. I planted it 27 years ago, hoping it would flourish; it was the first tree I ever planted.

I never thought much about our crabapple tree. That is, not much about it as a creature.

I grew up just outside Chicagoland in southern LaSalle county, in a small town on the banks of the Vermilion river.

“Christy, Christy, where are you?” my mother called, in vain.  I was only about a dozen feet away from her, but as it was 12 feet straight up, the odds of her finding me were slim.

When I was five years old
Dad told me, “It’s a catalpa.
See its seed-pod cigars.”

There used to be
a great big tree
a great majesty.

I live in Chicago now, but spent many years in Cooperstown, a beautiful little village in upstate New York. On a well-traveled road along a field just out of town, something wonderful happened.

This old tree ... I was in the neighborhood this morning, so I had to stop by and pause, inhale the scent of those sweet blossoms, and take a picture.

There was an ash tree in the front yard of my childhood home. Although there were many trees in our yard, this tree stood alone.

I come from a family with eight kids and we visited The Morton Arboretum frequently as a family. One of my favorite traditions is our Thanksgiving Day walk at the Arboretum.

I actually have two childhood trees. When I was between the ages of 8 and 10 years old, there was a beautiful weeping willow in our backyard.

Unfortunately this tree no longer exists. Unlike the many stories of great trees, this one is of the lowly, scrubby box elder.

My story isn't just about one tree but about being among many trees. The day my mother died, I headed straight to The Morton Arboretum to go for a walk in the woods.

“Mom, mama, mom, mom, can I tell you, mom? Mama?”

In September 1999, my 13-year-old daughter came to me for help after being assigned an eighth-grade science project: “creating an experiment with plants.” Being an avid amateur gardener

Our kids are 42 and 44. One of them planted a seed in a school project and brought it home in a cup when it was several inches high.