The main reason my wife I bought our home in Algonquin, IL, was for its mature oaks. We have a collection of white, bur and red oaks in our yard.

My beautiful crabapple grows happily right in the front of my house.  The reason I can attest to its happiness is that several times, during the spring and summer, it is sprayed with fungicide

I have a love story of two trees that I would like to share.

The Midwest cured my tree blindness. I grew up in Maine, where trees were a given, and then moved to upstate New York.

My husband and I have both loved trees since we were teenagers. As a result of this love, we have grown four trees from seed on our property in Woodridge, Ill.

In 1984, I lived near the banks of the Little Calumet River in South Holland, Ill.

The spruce in this photo was given to me by a neighbor who worked for a large nursery in St. Charles. I planted it 27 years ago, hoping it would flourish; it was the first tree I ever planted.

I never thought much about our crabapple tree. That is, not much about it as a creature.

I grew up just outside Chicagoland in southern LaSalle county, in a small town on the banks of the Vermilion river.

“Christy, Christy, where are you?” my mother called, in vain.  I was only about a dozen feet away from her, but as it was 12 feet straight up, the odds of her finding me were slim.

When I was five years old
Dad told me, “It’s a catalpa.
See its seed-pod cigars.”

There used to be
a great big tree
a great majesty.

I live in Chicago now, but spent many years in Cooperstown, a beautiful little village in upstate New York. On a well-traveled road along a field just out of town, something wonderful happened.

This old tree ... I was in the neighborhood this morning, so I had to stop by and pause, inhale the scent of those sweet blossoms, and take a picture.

There was an ash tree in the front yard of my childhood home. Although there were many trees in our yard, this tree stood alone.

I come from a family with eight kids and we visited The Morton Arboretum frequently as a family. One of my favorite traditions is our Thanksgiving Day walk at the Arboretum.

I actually have two childhood trees. When I was between the ages of 8 and 10 years old, there was a beautiful weeping willow in our backyard.

My story isn't just about one tree but about being among many trees. The day my mother died, I headed straight to The Morton Arboretum to go for a walk in the woods.