My mom just called to say they're moving my dogwood tree. Evidently it's out of the ground now, in a special basket, on its way to Burley with 12 pine trees. Mom wanted her trees from Golden Valley.
I lived there my entire childhood, until I moved to college. Around the year 2000, my family moved into the Burley house. It was from my mom's inheritance. J.D. and I were married there, but still, in my heart of hearts, I will only ever have one "place" that's home, Golden Valley.
Of course, home is with your family. But that physical space is special to me. I can't explain it. It's just where I could be free. If our souls are shaped at all by the spaces where we live, that's where I got my large dose of loneliness and solitude, quietness and music, romanticism and pragmatism.
I walked all over the place with my dogs: Rascal, Nelly, Delilah, Sam, Puppy (who I wanted to name Thoreau, but it never caught-on). I would walk through the gravel pit and grain fields, all around, even at night listening to music on my headset or making up songs and singing them as loud as I liked because the nearest neighbor (only one) was over a mile away. No one cared, and I could just be purely myself. Sometimes when I'm stressed or sad, I'll just pretend I'm walking on a dirt road where no one can see me.
I planted my tree in 1996 after I fell in love with dogwoods. I thought they were beautiful, but a different type of beauty than I was used to seeing. A delicate beauty. Which perhaps enticed me all the more because I was acclimated to a harsh, sublime aesthetic from my windy, plateau landscape. (Flowering dogwoods don't grow where I grew up). Still, I wanted one. So, when Mom ordered some trees that summer, I insisted a few be dogwoods. I had three originally. Two died-- one the casualty of a lawnmower incident. One survived. Mom said it bloomed for the first time just last spring, a couple of tiny, white flowers. Probably the product of being a delicate tree in a tough environment. Still, that it flowers at all, is somewhat of a miracle. Now, at this moment, my tree is being transplanted into new soil, where it will grow by the house with the big red barn. I hope it makes it and will bloom so I can see it one day.
I lived there my entire childhood, until I moved to college. Around the year 2000, my family moved into the Burley house. It was from my mom's inheritance. J.D. and I were married there, but still, in my heart of hearts, I will only ever have one "place" that's home, Golden Valley.
Of course, home is with your family. But that physical space is special to me. I can't explain it. It's just where I could be free. If our souls are shaped at all by the spaces where we live, that's where I got my large dose of loneliness and solitude, quietness and music, romanticism and pragmatism.
I walked all over the place with my dogs: Rascal, Nelly, Delilah, Sam, Puppy (who I wanted to name Thoreau, but it never caught-on). I would walk through the gravel pit and grain fields, all around, even at night listening to music on my headset or making up songs and singing them as loud as I liked because the nearest neighbor (only one) was over a mile away. No one cared, and I could just be purely myself. Sometimes when I'm stressed or sad, I'll just pretend I'm walking on a dirt road where no one can see me.
I planted my tree in 1996 after I fell in love with dogwoods. I thought they were beautiful, but a different type of beauty than I was used to seeing. A delicate beauty. Which perhaps enticed me all the more because I was acclimated to a harsh, sublime aesthetic from my windy, plateau landscape. (Flowering dogwoods don't grow where I grew up). Still, I wanted one. So, when Mom ordered some trees that summer, I insisted a few be dogwoods. I had three originally. Two died-- one the casualty of a lawnmower incident. One survived. Mom said it bloomed for the first time just last spring, a couple of tiny, white flowers. Probably the product of being a delicate tree in a tough environment. Still, that it flowers at all, is somewhat of a miracle. Now, at this moment, my tree is being transplanted into new soil, where it will grow by the house with the big red barn. I hope it makes it and will bloom so I can see it one day.
6 comments:
Thoreau - what a nice, normal name for a puppy. In my family the ones that didn't come with names already attached were named Ghana Mansa Musa and Tenzing Norgay respectively.
Hi lutheranchick!
Those names make Thoreau look downright boring! :)
Did your entire family get involved in the naming process?
This is such a lovely post, Tammy. I didn't know about the Dogwood tree, but even though I know I shouldn't have, I couldn't help but laught at the idea of the 'lawnmover incident.' I do like the idea of the persistence of the flowers in spite of the harsh conditions. I also like the image of the Golden Valey home being your own personal moor....but I am kind of sad to think of how different 'home' will be when you do go home this Christmas. I'm glad your mom has summoned the trees for the Burley house.
Now, was it the Burley house where you got married at? Or was it the Golden Valley house. I have to say I do always get the two confused....which one has all your dad's cars at it? Or, more precisely, which one has the Hemi? And the pretty red porch? And I know Delilah is gone, but Sam is still there, right?
No, you should laugh, about the "lawnmower incident," I do now. :)
You put it well, Golden Valley was my little moor. Where I could be ridiculous, not that location stops me from that most days. Just I have to be ridiculous in different ways now.
We were married in Burley, the house with the porch and red barn nearby. All of my family's things are there now.
Yes, Sam is the only doggie still alive. I need to really pet that sweet guy when I go home.
My Rascal died from old age; Nelly and Puppy were shot by cruel jerks; Delilah died when her hip problem became really bad and my mom had to put her to sleep. Very, very sad.
Every person present at the time of the dog's arrival has a say in the name and we argue until we reach consensus.
Ghana Mansa Musa - named after an African ruler(Mansa Musa) who had so much gold that when he went to Mecca and spent some of it, he temporarily devalued it. - When my parents got the dog they were such poor students that buying the dog who had gone unpurchased at the pet store for a year was an outrageous expense. (This was around the time of the Great Can 'O Tuna Diet.)
Tenzing Norgay - Sir Edmund Hillary's sherpa on his ascent of Everest. - The dog loves to climb. He still occasionally tries climbing up our heads.
I remember when Delilah died....it was sad. Does Sam still let kittens sit on him? He is so cute.
Also, is your Mom still able to go out on the golf cart with the animals? (Although I know Buddy was one of them....sigh.)
Your mom is really a trip!
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