The definition of a tree: a woody perennial plant, typically having a single stem or trunk growing to a considerable height and bearing lateral branches at some distance from the ground.  

To me it sounds pretty bland and boring, but the meaning is so much more than the simple definition suggests. Every season brings different stages of beauty and growth for just a woody perennial. To me trees mean a celebration and memorial of life.

As a kid my favorite tree was a cottonwood tree, even though it is one of the most hated trees for a lot of people I know. It is messy when the seeds split open making it look like it is snowing but I loved all of this white cotton floating through the air and gathering on the ground like a mini snow drift. The big shiny leaves were so smooth I couldn’t help but run my hands over them. It was my favorite climbing tree in our neighborhood because it was a really tall tree and the branches were spaced just right so we could climb so high. My friends and I would see who could go the highest. We would sit on the branches and make plans for the rest of the day.

As an adult one of my favorite trees is the sugar maple. Words can’t express the beauty that comes every fall. The vibrant colors of reds, oranges, and yellows are truly amazing in autumn, especially with the sunset as a backdrop. There is so much joy raking the leaves into piles for the grandkids to jump in just like I did as a child. 

Living in Minnesota my entire life, I always felt that God gave us the maple tree to enjoy every fall before the winter months slaps us across the face with the brutality of the bitter cold and snow. Then in March and April we see the buds of the trees popping out knowing spring is here and we get to witness the beauty again.  

I grew up a city kid who always dreamed of living in the county so I could have animals. I love every animal bigger than a mouse. I had a St. Bernard named Tiny growing up and have always had that breed of dog so space is important. My newest St. Bernard is nine-month-old Fiona. After we had two kids, we decided to move to the county (really, I decided but my wonderful husband agreed). We found a 1921 farmhouse on seven acres with a tree lined driveway, apple trees, and space to do what we wanted.

When we started to be blessed with grandchildren, we came up with the idea of planting on our farm a beautiful sugar maple for each grandchild born. To me this tradition represents life, growth, and beauty, just like our grandchildren.

Little did I know that each of the four grandkids would be so proud of the tree that was planted for them. They love to watch their own tree grow and they compare it to their siblings’ trees. Under each tree is a concrete slab Grandpa Dan made with the handprint of the grandchild at age five with their name etched into it. I’ve told my husband we can never sell the property now because of the grandchildren’s trees. 

Our daughter and son-in-law suffered the loss of two babies, but it didn’t mean that a tree would not be planted for them. In our yard are two weeping willow trees planted for our heavenly grandbabies. I like to think that they can look down from heaven and see that they each have a tree.

Every time I look at the willow trees, I think that one day I get to meet those grandchildren.


When we planted the two willow trees our grandkids were there with us, and I took a picture of them holding hands together around the tree. They didn’t know at the time who those trees were planted for, but my heart was filled with love capturing that moment.

Now that the kids are older, we will have a conversation about the importance of those two trees. I think we might just have a picnic under those trees and talk about what it will be like to all be together again and imagine what those two babies are like.

I am not sure if we will be blessed with more grandchildren, but if we do, we have many more acres to fill.