I lived in an area in Florida where there were orange groves everywhere. In spring you could sit on the stoop and breathe the blossoms. The orchards were sold for housing developments, and you couldn't smell anything this year.
I grew up next to a farm that had a cornfield. As children we ran through the rows. It was sold for a housing development.
Do any of us know what lies beneath? This meditation which led me to chestnuts and passenger pigeons is beautiful and poignant.
"The Village Blacksmith" was published (1840). The chestnut tree mentioned in the poem was cut down and part of it was made into an armchair which was then presented to Longfellow by local schoolchildren.
This was such a beautiful and profound essay, Sarah. Poor Thomas Hogg, who just wanted to share something he loved with America, and who wound up unleashing an apocalypse. So much of life and death is mere chance.
When we lived in NJ, we planted a Princeton elm in our yard. There is a miles-long road that leads into Princeton, and it is lined with elm trees so thick that their canopy feels almost like a tunnel. They carry a mutation that makes them resistant to Dutch elm disease, and so they are the lone survivors of that terrible extinction (which I’m old enough to remember). Arborists are now cultivating that species to bring elm trees back. A few years after we planted it, our small, brave elm was split by the weight of an early, wet snow (when leaves were still on the trees), and yet somehow managed to survive. A breath of hope!
Thank you for writing these lovely thoughts, which have given me in turn my own lovely thoughts about our determined little tree!
Thank you for telling me about the brave little elm tree! I hope it's still growing there.
In researching this post, I found an article about Thomas Hogg by a historian of horticulture that defended him - it mentioned the chestnut blight, but focused more on the amazing number of garden plants he brought to America out of pure love for the hobby. We have several Japanese maples in our yard, a couple of huge green ones and a little shaggy Muppet-shaped purple one - we owe him those, too.
I lived in an area in Florida where there were orange groves everywhere. In spring you could sit on the stoop and breathe the blossoms. The orchards were sold for housing developments, and you couldn't smell anything this year.
I grew up next to a farm that had a cornfield. As children we ran through the rows. It was sold for a housing development.
Do any of us know what lies beneath? This meditation which led me to chestnuts and passenger pigeons is beautiful and poignant.
"The Village Blacksmith" was published (1840). The chestnut tree mentioned in the poem was cut down and part of it was made into an armchair which was then presented to Longfellow by local schoolchildren.
https://poets.org/poem/village-blacksmith
Thanks so much for sharing this, Kathleen. This stanza in particular really hit me:
Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.
Today the chair is in Longfellow House in Maine
https://www.mainememory.net/record/15476
...And that is a beautiful chair!
This was such a beautiful and profound essay, Sarah. Poor Thomas Hogg, who just wanted to share something he loved with America, and who wound up unleashing an apocalypse. So much of life and death is mere chance.
When we lived in NJ, we planted a Princeton elm in our yard. There is a miles-long road that leads into Princeton, and it is lined with elm trees so thick that their canopy feels almost like a tunnel. They carry a mutation that makes them resistant to Dutch elm disease, and so they are the lone survivors of that terrible extinction (which I’m old enough to remember). Arborists are now cultivating that species to bring elm trees back. A few years after we planted it, our small, brave elm was split by the weight of an early, wet snow (when leaves were still on the trees), and yet somehow managed to survive. A breath of hope!
Thank you for writing these lovely thoughts, which have given me in turn my own lovely thoughts about our determined little tree!
Thank you for telling me about the brave little elm tree! I hope it's still growing there.
In researching this post, I found an article about Thomas Hogg by a historian of horticulture that defended him - it mentioned the chestnut blight, but focused more on the amazing number of garden plants he brought to America out of pure love for the hobby. We have several Japanese maples in our yard, a couple of huge green ones and a little shaggy Muppet-shaped purple one - we owe him those, too.