A little known secret about me is that I am actually quite the arborealist. Arborphile. Arborist. Whatever. Even though I generally have a black thumb, when it comes to planting trees, I’m somewhat of a genius. I don’t mean to brag, but it’s true. I have planted three trees in my life now, and while I can’t predict how tree #3 is going to do, trees #1 and 2 are doing quite well, thank you.
Tree #1, a Bradford Pear named Kristina. Named after the one who bought it for me as a housewarming gift five and a half years ago.
Tree #2 is of unknown species. I got a bundle of seedlings from the Arbor Day Foundation back in 2005ish, and planted them all over. Only this one survived. (Uh oh. Maybe I shouldn’t reveal this fact. This puts a blemish on my tree-planting career, doesn’t it?) Anyway, this thing was the size of a pencil when I stuck it in our front garden.
(I don’t have a picture of it back then, but just imagine, you know, a twig stuck in the ground. I actually did a really nice job of that front garden, but then &$#@ Katrina came and messed it all up. But that little tree survived!
And now we are here at Tree #3, my much longed-for Meyer lemon tree. (Meyer lemons are friggin’ expensive! And hard to find!)
It only took about half an hour to dig the hole and plant it and everything. This is fun! I’d turn our yard into a forest if given half a chance. How fun would that be?