Travelers between Calais and Paris must surely have noticed the lumps and clumps darkening like magpies’ nests the many neglected-looking strips of trees along the railway line in the North of France. Perhaps the neglect is deliberate; perhaps they pay a good dividend.
A Joy of Gardening; 1958
The one and only catalpa tree in our neighborhood sits by our sidewalk. Belonging not to one individual but rather to the entire City itself. It is somewhat neglected yet it continues to flower and thrive year after year. Perhaps neglect is all the better for it.
It was a great surprise as I rounded the corner on my morning walk and was greeted pleasantly by its white orchid-like frills. A happy sight, as it looks like a tree belonging to the wild tropics rather than our conservative state of Michigan.
Rarely do we see trees flowering in June, but the Catalpa shares with us its blooms; throwing them down for weeks. They send a fragrance of rosehip and honeysuckle floating through the humid air as you pass, and when the flowering is done, its seeds appear. Like giant vanilla beans, they hang and dangle until they too eventually fall, hoping to spread the fruit of their mid-summer labor.
A tree with many good qualities indeed. Their fragrant, deep blooms make for a fun hiding place for the little fingers of children. A canopy of huge heart-shaped leaves provide a hiding place for animals during rain storms, and the wood is resistant to rot, making it the perfect material for railroad ties.
Every year, I can’t help but wonder why I do not see more of this unique tree growing in the park or elsewhere? I have not the slightest clue as to the origins of this one specimen. I’m wondering now, how it came to be? Why on earth was it planted that close to the sidewalk but just off the property line of our neighbor’s? Was it planted deliberately or did it seed there by accident? It really is the only one I know of in this area. Perhaps I haven’t been looking up enough. Perhaps we need to plant more.