I
f Francis Bacon's belief that art is man added to
nature is accurate, then each time we plant a tree, it
not only reaffirms nature's bounty but in the doing, it
becomes a work of art. As the tree grows, it will add to
the community of trees consuming light, reflecting light
and casting light into shadow.
As we planted an acer tree at
Foxholm, I recalled my sixth grade
teacher, Mrs. Osgood, lining us
up at the Bell Elementary School
in Marblehead, Massachusetts to
recite Joyce Kilmer's Arbor Day
poem, "I think that I shall never
see/ a thing as lovely as a tree,"
as we planted a tree at the side
of the play yard: firty-four years
on, the tree must be huge. As I
symbolically held the shovel at
Foxholm, I was reminded of the
small forest of trees Sam and
Ethel Lefrak planted in Israel in
memory of my mother.
We chose the Acer Palmatum Suminagashi tree,
otherwise known as a Japanese maple, from a huge
selection at the large nursery at Wisley, the exquisite
HYLAND