The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

----Robert Frost

How do you find the perfect tree to honor a young, beautiful life taken too soon? The answer is: the tree finds you!
 

Over the years my family has visited the Morton Arboretum for the beauty of the trees. The spring blossoms, the summer leaves, and the autumn colors.

It was at my first birthday party and my second.

Searching for property in 1977, the bur oak sealed the deal.

Growing up in the Evergreen State, I was used to trees in every corner of space available. Even single-family home on a quarter acre might still be home to multiple 50' Douglas firs.

     Born and raised in the small town of Itasca, my family moved to a larger home with a larger yard when I was five.

Once upon a time there was a young girl who loved her grandmother's back yard. It was filled with many white pine trees. The one next to the school parking lot somehow beckoned to her.

My wife and I went to visit our kids in their new home in Downers Grove. They had a big yard and quite a few good-sized trees. One tree caught my eye, about 20 feet from the house.

I love trees. I have 37 trees on my half acre lot in Wheaton and I planted 35 of them over the years.

Around 1940, my grandparents owned a small farm, close to Roselle, Illinois. We had a willow tree close to a little creek. I saw my grandpa take a few leaves off the tree and chew on them.

One year, I collected a bag of black walnuts for a project I was going to do in the winter months. My wife and I were going to a dinner party that Saturday with friends from work.

When our grandchildren were between the ages of four and six, we would take them to Wood Dale Lake. I wanted them to learn about nature's playground.

As a participant in a Chicago bike ride for one of the Earth Day celebrations in the late 80's, I received a simple little twelve-inch evergreen sapling.

It was six years ago and my once healthy backyard ash tree had succumbed to the dreaded ash borer disease.

When I was a young girl--until I reached college-age and headed to the Midwest--I lived in Pennsylvania. Penn’s Woods, my mom taught me.

My grandma died on a bright December day, right after a thick snowfall. As ready as she was, the living were not.

Back in the ‘50s when I was a wee girl, things were so different.

My late husband, Dan, and l loved this tree. It sits in our front yard and was probably planted when the house was built, 1957. It’s the largest magnolia I’ve seen in this area.