Jonathan, The Apple Tree

I think it’s crazy to plant something that won’t be beneficial to me for five more years, Andrew thinks it’s crazy people don’t plant trees for that reason.

I wanted to plant a tree. I’ve never done so, not one I remember anyways. Maybe as a kid I did, with my father’s hand guiding my actions, but never at my own will. I have an Environmental Studies degree, yet I’ve never planted a tree. Something’s not right about that.

It started with the tiller, one that runs erratically, pulling me forward as I try to brace my feet and contain its energy. I manage to clear out a small area, maybe six by six feet, raking away the determined grass, and ever present rocks. They don’t call it the Rocky Mountains for nothing was one of the first sayings I ever heard in my Colorado gardening career.

I emulate Andrew’s methodical actions, with his plot just next to mine. In reality they are his and Renee’s plots, their house, their land, but work is shared, as I assume the rewards will be, starting in five years, of course.

Renee brings over Jonathan, the apple tree I’ll plant. He’s already taller than me, with small green leaves, he looks healthy. Renee talks to Jonathan, she is sweet, and handles the plant like the baby it is. Together the three of us guide him, out of the pot, into the earth. He is here now, and in five years when I enjoy the fruit, I imagine we’ll have some stories to share.  Hopefully he won’t be the last. 

America’s Youth on the Appalachian Trail

This is another piece for my creative non fiction writing course I'm taking with Will Gray at Fort Lewis College. I decided to write about my friends Maura and Al, who will be hiking the AT trail later this year. 

My friends Al and Maura are preparing for six months on the Appalachian Trail; they seem to be searching for something, and for their true selves. I spent the last five days with them during their visit out west, and I wish more Americans had their honesty, ambition and sense of responsibility for the planet. We spent every moment possible in the outdoors during their trip, mostly out at Indian Creek canyon, a red rock utopia for rock climbers, situated on the southern edge of Canyonlands.

Al has been a close friend for a few years now. He’s a very reflective soul, one who always questions his actions, and the actions of other human beings on the planet. He’s concerned about the state of the world, and picks up trash as often as he can. So does Maura, his dreadlocked sweetheart. Their ambitions on the trail include restoring areas when needed. Their carbon footprint will certainly be decreased with months and months of walking. Their minds and souls will transport to spiritual places they never imagined before the journey.

Maura tells me everyone on the trail is given a trail name; her enthusiasm is unbounded. I think walking that long would be boring, but her excitement has me intrigued, and captivated. She’s a new friend; this is our first adventure together. I know Al better. I know after two years in the east he’s discovered his true self belongs out west. But first, before returning, he will take a walk in the woods.