My favorite Madison tree is the magnificent sycamore on Arbor Drive, with its majestic shape, luminous mottled bark, and over-sized maple-shaped leaves. Seeing that sycamore at sunrise or sunset in any season is breathtaking. A close second would be the towering cottonwood trees on the north shore path of Picnic Point. For historical, but also aesthetic reasons, I admire the bur oak on the Vilas Path just north of the zoo (about 70 yards west of the Drake/Grant intersection). To the side of this gnarly gothic oak sits a plaque saying it was alive in 1787 when the U.S. Constitution was written.
I also favor the Arboretum lilacs, even though most are shrubs — just a month or so until they bloom! In winter, the grove of paper birches in Olbrich Gardens is like a scene from Doctor Zhivago.
You may have a very different set of favorite trees.
Our attraction to trees is primeval. Billions of years ago, we shared a common ancestor. Eons later, recognizable trees evolved, well before dinosaurs; millions of years after dinosaurs went extinct, human evolution began. Our reverence for trees runs deep, perhaps a remnant of our species’ early arboreal evolution in the savannas of Africa.
Our love of trees can be seen in ancient religions, from the tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil in Genesis to the Bodhi Tree, under which the Buddha attained enlightenment, circa 500 BCE. The early Irish believed in a Tree of Life; in their 20-character alphabet, each letter represented a different tree.
Science and capitalism have obscured much of this primal connection. In the modern age, we think of the tree as a photosynthetic plant with an elongated trunk; a pine tree is a good source for turpentine. Contemporary tree research, though, is encouraging a return to the ancient, more sublime and wondrous sense of trees.
We are coming full circle, with botany leading the way. Books such as Peter Wohlleben’s The Hidden Life of Trees and the work of the Canadian forest ecologist Suzanne Simard reveal trees as social organisms. Science now sees trees as something akin to sentient beings. We know that they react to pain, nurture other trees, and have an elaborate underground system of communication that has cleverly been labeled the “wood wide web.” Trees deserve our respect, our awe, our stewardship.
To plant a tree is — figuratively and literally — to put down roots.
A century before these recent scientific discoveries of arboreal sentience, our national appreciation of trees took a practical step forward. In 1872 Nebraskans celebrated the first national Arbor Day, which led to the planting of roughly a million trees. In 1907, with the support of President Theodore Roosevelt, Arbor Day became a widely recognized day of tree planting, celebrated in most states including Wisconsin on the last Friday in April.
Earth Day is celebrated a bit earlier, on April 22. As readers of Isthmus will likely know, Earth Day was started by our very own Gov./Sen. Gaylord Nelson in 1970 in response to an oil spill off the coast of Santa Barbara, California. It was wildly successful from the start.
Because Earth Day is thriving, I wish to promote here a revitalization of Arbor Day, Earth Day’s older, often-neglected grandparent. Trees deserve their own day in the sun.
Trees are good for insects, birds and squirrels. In their daily expulsion of oxygen, they help offset the flood of CO2 causing climate change. Trees also give us microclimates of cool air in the summer.
Madison is fortunate to have so many exquisite trees, even though some of the loveliest are gone — the elms and American chestnuts — or endangered like the ash. As species of trees go extinct, new ones must be planted. The city does a commendable job of planting and maintaining trees in public spaces, but individuals should do what we can to plant and maintain trees in private spaces.
There are a number of reasons to plant a tree. Besides the aesthetic and ecological benefits, there is a more philosophical reason: “A society grows great when old people plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in.” This proverb and sentiments similar to it are found in cultures across the globe. Its ubiquity speaks to its universality.
To plant trees not expecting to enjoy their shade suggests an unsettling but comforting truth, that many trees will outlive the person who plants them. People have long sought immortality through art, religion and offspring. To plant a tree seems like an equally good bet.
On this Arbor Day — April 28 — I hope Madison residents will channel their inner Johnny Appleseed by picking up a shovel and planting a tree.
Planting trees is wholesome at any age but ideal for young people as a way to leave a visible, positive mark on the planet. As a boy, I planted, with my father, a tulip poplar sapling in my yard in rural northwestern Pennsylvania. Over the years and decades, that tree has grown and now looms over my former home.
Decades later I have continued planting trees in Madison, sometimes replacing ones killed by rabbits and sometimes breaking ground for new ones. Two of my recent favorites are a gingko and a tri-colored beech. As I watch these trees grow, I am keenly aware of my own impermanence and find solace in the idea they will provide shade for future generations.
George Savage retired a decade ago from UW-Whitewater, where he taught English.
Before planting a tree, check Diggers Hotline by calling 811. Also check the recommended planting dates for specific trees. For more information about trees and tree planting, consult the Arbor Day Foundation, arborday.org, or the USDA Plant-A-Tree site.
