December 29, 2015. Received the call that my father had passed away, never fully recovering from open-heart surgery. We had lost mom the previous year due to Alzheimer's.

 I have a small tree in my frontyard. My tree is not that old but in spring we trim it. I really like puting decorations on the tree on Chistmas.

If a tree falls in the forest and there is no one there to hear it, does it make noise?

I have a beautiful tree at my house in the front yard, but I have never climbed it yet. Maybe someday. I would never want it to break down or get struck by lightning because it is so beautiful.

I laugh inside every time I hear friends or neighbors complain about cottonwood trees.  The tiny seeds floating in puffs of cotton, yes, clogging the air conditioner, are a joy to me.

My parents are gone but their little Christmas tree made its way into my home.

When I was a boy, we had an old birch tree in our front yard. It would stand there with its papery bark peeling away and low-splitting trunks begging to be climbed on.

My mother was an avid gardener her whole life. Despite working full-time, she spent countless hours tending to her perennial garden and magnolia trees.

I was born in Minnesota, you know, the land of 10,000 lakes. But along with all of those lakes are a lot of trees.

Last year when I was 8 something horrible happened and my Dad died from cancer. His cancer moved to his liver and then two days later he died. We cried a lot and a lot.

Imagine coming home one day and thinking something horrible had happened to your neighborhood.  It looked like a war zone.

My tree story begins in the summer of 1965. A wonderful park about a quarter-mile from our house, called Willow Park, was filled with beautiful willow trees.

My first trip to the Children's Garden in 2005 with grandson Adam, five years old was a delight.  As we entered this amazing garden we were given a plastic bag that contained a tiny blue s

Sometimes you might see me in a tree. What am I doing in a tree?  I might be climbing. When you see me climbing, you might see me holding onto branches.

When we bought our house in January 1982, the beech was fairly empty of leaves, covered in snow, and standing at about 20 feet tall and about 10 feet in diameter.

I grew in a quiet suburb in Burr Ridge, IL where the streets are lined with trees. Yet one tree always reminds me of home.

I love my tree in my backyard because it leaves a path in the yard. It is a tall tree that leaves shade in the path.

A cottonwood tree is rarely anyone's favorite today. It is not disease resistant or strong, plus the female tree spreads fluffy seeds everywhere in the spring.

I went to you for solace.

     Eighty-nine degrees, a sweltering August day in Chicago.  No soothing breezes moved the air. The curtains hung damp with humidity.