The Block Party

If trees could talk . . .

“Oh dear, there goes another one”, I exclaimed as the breeze swirled through my branches, bringing a yellow leaf tumbling down into the pile that encircled my trunk.

It’s time to host our neighborhood block party, and as usual, I’m running behind. I’ve heard the sighing and moaning about my habitual tardiness from the other trees. Everyone is a little anxious this time of year, since Artie the Arborist will be here any day, to prune us back before winter.

So many expectations! It’s not easy being a tree this time of year, especially for birches like me. Oh, forgive me! I haven’t introduced myself properly - I’m Betty Birch. My most striking feature this time of year is my white bark and limbs loaded with vibrant, golden leaves. I am the hostess of the block party every autumn, since my leaves are the first to drop.

We are quite a group when we all get together in the cul-de-sac. Towering over all of us is Reginald Red-Maple. Over 40 feet tall and equally as wide, Reginald is covered with a multitude of glorious, serrated, spiky red leaves. He considers himself the King of the Block. I must admit he is handsome in his cloak of royal red. He prides himself on being one of the first trees to adorn himself with color and he is definitely a head-turner. However, he does leave a horrible mess in our yards once he finally sheds his fall coat.

In the shadow of Reginald Red-maple, lives my best friend, Bonnie Beech. Bonnie has simple ovate-shaped leaves and smooth gray bark. We are often confused for one another, since our names sound so similar. Despite living in Reginald’s shadow, she holds her own and the brilliance of her shiny yellow coat makes quite a contrast to Reginald’s royal red.

Across the way live the twins, Mai and Tai, the Japanese Maple sisters. They are graced with dainty leaves in an ever-changing mix of greens and reds this time of year.

Just past the twins, is Dora Dogwood. Honestly, she isn’t much to look at in the fall, occasionally her pointy tip leaves turn pale red, but in the spring she shines, bursting forth in color, pink blossoms on one side and white on the other - it’s quite a spectacle, especially when most of the rest of us are just getting our spring coats out of mothballs.

Gilda Gingko is tall and slender and graced with fan-shaped leaves. Her soft sage-colored leaves turn the loveliest shade of bright, dandelion yellow. One day, Gilda is covered in glory and the next, every single leaf lies in a ring at her feet.

Sam Sycamore is huge and sturdy. He is loaded with large, palmate leaves in shades of burnt orange, dull yellow and crimson. Unfortunately, Sam suffers from male pattern baldness, so his crown is nothing but bare twigs, while his remaining leaves grow in like tufts that encircle his mid-section. Sam isn’t the showiest in the neighborhood. He is rather shy for such a tall fellow, but we can see he is sweet on Dora Dogwood, and blushes when she leans his way.

To my left is Questa Quaking-Aspen. Questa is stunning in the autumn, with her brilliant yellow triangular covering. A bit of a Nervous Nelly, whenever the wind whips up, her branches thrum and her leaves flutter continually.

Sarah Sweetgum is in her glory right now. You might know her from her time on Broadway, as Lily Liquidambar, famous for her star-shaped leaves. She recently relocated to our community, leaving fame behind for a more quiet life in the suburbs. She is handling the transplant quite well and still puts on a daily show transforming from kelly-green to red-orange, sunny yellow and deep eggplant purple. Some days she wears all four colors at once. She is as lovely as her name implies.

Last in the circle is Magda Magnolia. Magda is a bit of a pain as she doesn’t lose her leaves. Throughout winter, the rest of us shiver in our nakedness, while Magda smugly wraps herself with a stole of glossy forest-green leaves, laughing at our bare branches.

Sadly, our gathering is smaller this year, for our beloved Rosa Redbud has been laid to rest. Rosa was a dear, but she suffered terribly for years with an unknown illness, that caused her branches to die off bit by bit. One day Chainsaw Charlie came and took her down to the ground. Only her stump remains. She will be missed. We live in fear of Chainsaw Charlie’s arrival, knowing we might end up as firewood. On the plus side, Rosa will warm a family’s hearth this winter.

Wally-Weeping-Willow is not taking Rosa’s loss well. Day and night we hear him keening for her, sending down showers of golden leaves cascading to the ground, like a puddle of tears.

The Block Party is our last hurrah before winter’s chill arrives. Today, all my neighbors are sporting their finery, as we gather on this sunny, mid-October day. The cool nights have brought out the best in all, and together, we are a sight to behold.

I have bags of fresh compost for everyone, and my special worm-casting tea steeping. Soon we’ll all be enjoying a cuppa’ nourishing nutrients to carry us through the long winter ahead.

The wind is beginning to pick up and our leaves cascade down in a swirl, joining into a circle of color - ruby-reds, vermillion, splashy orange, golden hues - dandelion, bright and burnished yellow, deep-rich eggplant, and here and there, a pop of green. Our beauty is short-lived, but for now we outshine the entire neighborhood of evergreens.

It’s always fun to have one last glorious gathering before Artie the Arborist and his competition, Snip-happy Stan come and reshape us for the coming winter. I much prefer Artie’s gentle touch as he selectively cuts only what is needed for us to flourish, while Snip-happy Stan wields his shears with wild abandon.

But worst of all is Chainsaw Charlie - nobody wants to see Chainsaw coming. He never knows when to stop. Once Gilda was left with nothing but a high-top.

Soon the wind grows fierce, and the skies open up in a downpour. We huddle together for one last hug before winter sets in. We’re all unique, but we love and respect one another in spite of our diversity - a reminder that we don’t have to look alike to be friends.

We’re delighted you stopped by to witness our gathering and hope to see you again, come March when our new clothes will be ready and we’ll once again shimmer with the cheerful colors of spring.

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