The Case of the Crooked Tree

In spite of freezing temperatures and snow in the forecast this week, spring has already arrived in central Oklahoma. Bradford Pear trees line the streets of Edmond, creating clouds of white flowers. They are everywhere, in all sizes, and these spectacular trees burst into bloom the first week of March. We were fortunate to have several in place when we moved into our house three years ago. This year they displayed the most extravagant, snowy white blossoms ever; but my husband says that I say that every year. And I am very biased about the natural beauty I find in Oklahoma.



Sharing the front yard with the pear tree is a crooked little purple leaf plum tree. Prior to the arrival of shiny purple leaves, beautiful delicate pink-petaled blossoms adorn this tree.


Since it grows at an angle and is not exactly a lush, full tree, my husband has wanted to cut it down since he first saw it. He believes the yard would look better without it. My argument has been that it is healthy and that it seems a shame to cut down a perfectly good tree. But last summer I finally agreed to his reasoning, and our plan was to cut it down during the winter. Somehow we never got around to it.



The other day when I walked out to get the mail, I stopped and looked at our misshapen tree, and suddenly I was smitten. This sturdy little tree endures the Oklahoma weather extremes of cold temperatures, ice, snow, heat, and drought; and yet every spring it unfailingly provides us with beautiful blooms. How could we kill it? It deserves a chance to live.

And so, when Hubby got home, I took a deep breath and pleaded the case of the crooked tree, and he good-naturedly acquiesced.

The little plum tree will live out its natural life in all its quirky glory. And I swear since I told it the news, it has straightened up a little bit.