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The Growing Season

The Christmas season was still half a year away. Vacationing customers were at an amusement park or a lake. Friends were balanced on the high dive at the town pool. On hot summer days, I followed my father into a field of evergreen trees to trim new growth that had sprouted during the growing season. Mature evergreen trees hoping to become Christmas trees must be sheared each year to direct their growth. Although customers have their favorite shapes, some like tall narrow trees, while others prefer their trees more squat and plump, growers strive for the iconic symmetrical tree, the "two-thirds taper" in which the base of the tree is two-thirds as wide as the height. My father was no exception. He prided himself on his beautifully shaped trees. Under his watchful eye, I learned the art of choosing the best leader, the leading shoot of the tree that controls its height and width. I learned to remove multiple tops to develop a tall straight stem and establish a line between the top and the bottom branches to determine where the excessively long side branches in between should be cut. Every tree was a challenge. Each was different. Each tree required different care. It was hard work. Slowly, methodically we moved through the rows of trees that at times felt like they would stretch on forever and never end. Sometimes my father and I worked alone. Other times, one of my siblings was persuaded to help. Though pines are trimmed earlier, and firs are trimmed later, shearing invariably takes place under a blazing summer sun. There was the heat to deal with, humidity, gnats, sticky sap, prickly tree branches. Still, I liked being out there in the field. I liked being out there with my father. There was a quiet, a calm, the companionable silence of work. The field of trees was our livelihood, our backyard, a playground. There was the thrill of finding a bird’s nest hidden deep in a tree or remnants of what customers, those festive people traipsing through your backyard for one month a year, leave behind. Sometimes I unearthed a candy bar wrapper, beer bottle, mitten, or scarf, proof that not only they were there, but that they would return. During those summers, I learned growing trees takes time, care, and patience. I too was shaped. I learned the love of growing things. A love that helped me grow. And one that I have not forgotten.