 |
|
|
|
|
The Allure of a Tree-Lined Neighborhood
Three golden rules for keeping our urban forests healthy
By Moryt Milo
I'm passionate about trees. When my husband and I were searching for a house, I had two stipulations for our broker: big trees, no swimming pool. My poor broker got so tired of me chanting, "But there's no trees!" that he threw up his hands and said, "If you want trees so bad, you can always plant them."
But he didn't understand. Big trees, like oaks, evergreens, maples, ashes and redwoods, take a long time to grow. I can't plant a tree that's 30, 50 or 100 years old. I can't plant charm, age and beauty. Well, maybe I can, but it's sure going to start out small. And odds are that 30 years from now I won't still be living in my home to see my tree reach its full, regal height.
Trees give a home character. They add shade and privacy. They enrich the air with oxygen. Trees are windbreaks and sound barriers. If you're lucky, they bear fruit. They bring nesting birds--which my husband has determined does have its drawbacks. This is especially true in the spring when the mockingbirds burst into nonstop song at 3 a.m. But a property without trees feels wanting. The space looks flat and boring. Why else are people attracted to "tree-lined" neighborhoods?
Now, before you think I'm an environmental activist willing to scale 2,000-year-old redwoods to save them from the hatchet, let me assure you I am not. It's more that I have respect for beings that have withstood countless droughts, deluges and fires. I have a sense of awe over something so old that has been the earth's quiet guardian of history. Something so ancient that it was here at the time of Jesus, or the building of the Great Wall of China or the discovery of the Americas. This is the source of my passion.
I reflect that 50 years ago, an old tree in Santa Clara County was surrounded by orchards in a land where farming was king. I see one of those behemoths in the Santa Cruz Mountains and think that 100 years ago there were no cars or Highway 17, only explorers and horses. A tree is a point of reference that makes me stop and take notice. A tree teaches; a tree is living history that can be touched and felt.
Yet lately, every time I pick up a paper or drive somewhere, I see what seems to be a very sad trend. Trees are literally losing ground. I read that trees in Sonoma are being replaced by grapevines due to economics and the lure of pinot noir. Orchards that once offered a cornucopia of delights have been surrendered to acres of silicon-chip campuses. Housing developments are yanking out trees like toothpicks so more space can be made for those matchbox-size homes. And don't even get me started on all the trees they destroyed in Campbell Park by the par course. That place looks like a denuded Brazilian rainforest.
Of course, none of this behavior is new. When gold was discovered, so were the giant Sequoias. Some folks saw the marvel of these giants while others saw endless houses and furniture. Fortunately for the Sequoias their wood was brittle and Gold Rush-era technology lacked power tools. Yet there was a fair amount of damage done before people began to see these trees as living treasures to be cherished, not chopped.
So, I have an idea. We need to pass a law requiring that for every tree chopped down by those Paul Bunyan types, these same people are required to plant a new one. The rules would be simple and easy to follow:
If you take out one tree then you replace one tree. If you take out two then two go back in the ground. You get the idea.
You will be free to plant the tree anywhere, provided the location is not slated for houses, offices, malls or parking lots in the next 50 years.
Whatever tree you plant has to be at least in a 20-gallon container so it doesn't take the next millennium for it to grow.
Three simple rules that anyone could follow, along with one planting suggestion. All tree-uprooters are encouraged to go to tree-less neighborhoods, knock on doors and offer to plant replacement trees in homeowners' yards. Then I figure, 50 years from now all the birds, squirrels and other arboreal creatures will still have homes, and humans will have fresh air, privacy and plenty of shade. And everyone will be lucky enough to live on one of those wonderful tree-lined streets.
Moryt Milo is a freelance writer and Campbell resident. Her column appears every other week in this space. Contact Moryt at morytb@aol.com.
|
|
|
|
Campbell, California
