She has done something pretty special for me. I am lucky to
live in a place where street trees are treated with respect by owners,
neighbors and passersby alike. No longer will I think of them as just more “furniture”
on the street, decorative during leaf season, or in the case of the Callery
pear, gorgeous in their white-ish blooms.
Now, after reading “Urban Forests,” I find myself looking up
to the canopy above me. Streets in Park Slope, Brooklyn, can be seen as forests
first, the homes just part of the scenery. Of course, this is even truer of
Prospect Park, where some trees are hundreds of years old. They are the true
old-timers; the rest of us, just passing through.
Next: Running for
Your Life: “Considers” by Katherine Rundell
