Strawberry Trees Forever
I am currently sitting in the shade of my garage on this lovely, sunny 73 degree San Diego day. Both doors and the side door are open, so the breeze from the Pacific Ocean might make this the loveliest spot on earth right now. There’s a big window in the garage facing West and I must admit, I always assumed someone had an extra window when building the house, so they said, “Might as well put it in the garage.” They couldn’t possibly know that twenty years later I would like sitting in my camp chairs looking out at our new garden and the bonsai trees at the base of the massive boulders set against the mountain and ocean skyline. At this exact moment I am watching three Mexican/American landscapers from Moon Valley Nurseries dig a very large hole for a very large tree I am having them install at the Eastern side of the garden amongst the lavender bushes. The tree is intended to shade the bonsais from the harshness of the morning sun and generally add to the coziness of the garden.
I added this tree to a prior order of an Ocatillo, a succulent from Arizona that has become a favorite of Kim’s, and a flowering multi-trunk Crepe Myrtle tree. The two have now joined the rest of the cacti and succulents (and an odd Bougainvillea tree) that make for a grand entrance to our driveway. They are big trees, but easily located for placement without the heavy equipment now in full deployment for the garden tree. To begin with, this tree, which is also an interesting multi-trunk affair (about six I believe) is approximately three times as big as the Crepe Myrtle. The box on the root ball measures 72” square and about as deep. It is currently resting on the forks of an articulating forklift that the nursery has driven up here for this express purpose. If it sounds like I’m getting extravagant with my gardening, I fear you might be right. But then I look at the specimen-grade Madagascar bottle tree on the far side of the house and remind myself that there was certainly a similar day long ago when the homeowner was wondering why he/she was spending so much to plant a silly tree. Today, it is our pride and joy just as I’m sure today’s addition will be down the road.
I want to pause to note a curious and fun coincidence. We named this house Casa Moonstruck nine years ago for several reasons; the moonrise over this big sky setting was spectacular, I loved the 1987 Cher movie called Moonstruck and all that it said about grabbing the gusto of life, I love the New Yorker aspects of the movie, I am a big Italianophile, and the last line says it all to me, “Ala famiglia!” We have the name Casa Moonstruck prominently displayed on plaques at the entrance, at the front door and on the deck. Our WiFi ID is Moonstruck. My Tesla, which had to be named for the app, is Moonshadow. So, here we are on our little hilltop and there are only two commercial operations at the base of our hill. There is a patio furnishings store which we frequent for fountains, patio furniture, fire pits and planting pottery. The other is a pair of twin nurseries that straddle the I-15 Highway. They are part of a nursery conglomerate of sorts and are extremely well-stocked and oh so professionally run. They were wise enough to give me a free case of what they call Moon Juice, which is their brand of plant growth hormone. They call it Moon Juice because they are called Moon Valley Nurseries and they are directly down the hill in the valley below Casa Moonstruck. You can’t ignore that sort of coincidence, so Moon gets my big landscape spend on big plants and trees.
I see my Mexican tfriends, with whom I am intermittently conversing, practicing my Spanish (they are very light on English even after 20+ years of living in San Diego), as they appear ready with the big tree well to crank up the forklift. They have worked hard now for four hours and have another hour yet to go I imagine. Planting trees is a labor-intensive business that is not just a backhoe and mulch operation. I have tremendous respect for the working man and especially for the hard-working immigrants like these (I have no idea or care as to whether they are legal or illegal). The one who took two offered 32 ounce Gatorade’s (naturally the smallest and hardest working one) told me quite simply with matter-of-fact indifference, “No trabajo, no commida “, or no work, no food. I will tip them well, as much for their hard work as for my extreme affinity for the working immigrant. One of them is out there now, shoveling and whistling while I sit in the garage pondering and writing about life.
The tree we bought is called a Strawberry Tree. It is technically Arbutus Unedo, a member of the Ericaceae family of trees. It is an evergreen that is native to the Mediterranean and Western Europe, especially Western Ireland. It is actually known to some as the Irish Strawberry Tree or Killarney Strawberry Tree. We knew none of that when we picked it out at the nursery, but just wanted a good shade tree that would not grow too big. This one appealed to us immediately once the nurseryman told us that its summer-long blooms gave off a sweet aroma that attracted butterflies and humming birds. It was as though he had researched Kim’s passions when he told us that. It is a great bonus to us that we can also use this as a reminder of the last great family vacation we took in 2019 to Western Ireland where we were toured around to Killarney and hither and yon by our local guide Gerard. Gerard reads this blog occasionally, so I’m hoping he sees my nod to his magnificent countryside where we so very much enjoyed our family sojourn.
I am inclined to comment that this day is turning into a confluence of things for which I have great enthusiasm. The American poet Mr. Joyce Kilmer had one great poem in him to immortalize his life a century ago. We should all be so lucky and talented. You have likely heard it, it is called simply Trees.
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
My three Mexican immigrant friends, wearing high-viz yellow shirts that say Moon Valley Nurseries, are ready to plant our Casa Moonstruck Irish Strawberry Tree with its bright red barked trunks, its lush and full canopy of dark green leaves and its sweet-smelling flowers. It marks the last step in our garden journey and brings this project to a lovely and soulful conclusion. What else can I say but paraphrase the great John Lennon, Strawberry Trees Forever.