If you were a child attending school in Western Canada in the ‘60s, you probably came home one day with a little evergreen sapling to be planted in your yard.
I remember the one I received. It was about six inches high with one or two little side branches and appeared to be closer to death than life. It was relinquished to the basement on the cool, damp floor until someone had time to help me plant it.
About a week later my mother took pity on me. We chose a suitable spot in the yard and followed the directions, digging a hole, forming a cone-shaped pile of dirt in the bottom, setting the sapling on the dirt and filling in the hole with more dirt. My assignment was to water the little thing every day, which I did faithfully.
By the following summer there was faint hope that the seedling might survive. Then came autumn, when a propane fill was ordered to provide our winter heat. As the big truck backed up from filling the tank it went a little too far, and as I watched I was sure my little tree would be crushed to the ground.
As soon as the truck left, I ran out to check. There stood my tree, totally unharmed. On each side of the trunk was a tire track. It had gone between the dual wheels!
One summer as I watered my tree I noticed an abundance of bugs, probably aphids, crawling over its branches. I told my mother, who promptly introduced me to the insecticide Malathion and how to apply it. It killed the insects and my tree again survived.
When it had reached about three feet in height, something happened to the top branch. One of the side branches began to grow upwards, and after a few more seasons the damage was undetectable.
I still look at my tree each time I visit the home farm (above photo taken 2011). But now I look up to its towering stature. It reminds me of pleasant memories and bygone days. It is still regarded as Edith's tree.
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