It was a chilly March morning in Washington D.C.
In the United Kingdom, in 1979, I moved to a rented house in a town that was designated a "New Town" a new town built from scratch and absorbing four or five small villages.
The elm tree on our parkway in Villa Park was my reading tree in the 1950s.
Eighty-nine degrees, a sweltering August day in Chicago. No soothing breezes moved the air. The curtains hung damp with humidity.
Trees do much for the existence of life on our planet, and they are also a visible history of time.
The Morton Arboretum has some proud examples of the black locust tree (Robinia pseudoacacia). Nevertheless, invasive tendencies raise concern about future applications.
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.
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.