It seems we have established a joint custody arrangement regarding the newest youngster at the family home. The little mimosa tree named Seymour has his first blooms and the neighbors are all atwitter about it.
Earlier this week, shortly after sunset, our doorbell rang. We weren’t expecting anyone, so my wife and I looked at one another quizzically as I flipped on the light that illuminates the front porch. Peering through the window, I saw our neighbor the doctor and his lovely wife standing there…beaming.
Of course, I invited them in, even before I realized they were bearing gifts. The doctor, having noted our struggles as we tried to get a mimosa tree to thrive in a section of our yard adjacent to his house, raised the little sapling for us in a pot and planted it in our yard himself. He noticed the new blooms; and like a proud god parent, he brought over a basket with champagne and orange juice (so we can make mimosas!) and a card proclaiming that we have “The Cutest Baby Ever.” Inside the card were photos he took of the blooms.
The four of us chatted for a good long while about the progress of our little project. I explained that the tree is thriving because my wife talks to it on a daily basis. The doctor said he has been carefully watering it, too. If it takes a village to raise a child, then it must take neighbors, three of whom are health care professionals, to grow a tree in historic drought conditions.
It is said that good fences make good neighbors, and maybe that’s true; working together toward a common goal helps, too. One day soon maybe we will share the benefit of shade from our little friend. In the meantime, we should probably set up lawn chairs in the driveway and drink champagne and orange juice. Mimosas for everybody!
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Shady Dealings in the Neighborhood
Monday, August 01, 2011
See the Tree, How Big It's Grown
When I was a little boy, there was a huge mimosa tree in our front yard.
When I was four or five, my mother started having what the doctor decided were allergy issues and a decision was made to saw down that tree. For some reason, it upset me so much that I still remember it vividly. So, I’ve always wanted a mimosa tree.
The landscaping people arrogantly refuse to plant one. I’ve been told more than once “It’s a trash tree.” Maybe so, but it’s my yard and if I want to pay tribute to my roots with a trash tree, so be it.
Twice over the years, we’ve planted mimosa saplings in a strategic spot in our yard. The first one was a gift from my late father-in-law, who knew of my mimosa quest. Sadly, both of them died. I think they were done in by the string trimmer the yard man uses, but that’s just a theory.
This has mystified me, because these trees grow like weeds (which, if you believe the landscape people, they are) all over town.
Unbeknownst to us, our next door neighbor the doctor has been watching our mimosa struggles. He met me at the mailbox one day over the winter and said he had been growing a small mimosa tree in a pot on his porch and that he would plant it for us whenever we were ready. He evened named the tree “Seymour” after the fast-growing, man-eating plant in “Little Shop of Horrors.”
Here we are, in the August blast furnace, and Seymour seems to be thriving. He’s defoliated a couple of times, but has bounced back strong. Now, it looks like he might make it. I think I know why.
My wife has taken to talking to him on an almost daily basis. She praises him for standing up straight (He does have a history of bending his young trunk). 
She oohs and ahs over his new leaves and she tells him what a big, strong, shady tree he will be one day. It seems to be working. The third try is the charm, it appears. Seymour is getting a lot of attention.
We will keep watering, keep encouraging, keep watching him grow and keep hoping nobody develops any nasty allergies.
