I’m taking a trowel to work this morning, because yesterday I spotted a series of trees that live alongside our building that are dangerously mulched. With my trowel I will reorganize their high mounds of bark, presently packed tight against the tree trunks, into a donut shapes that expose the trunks to the air.
Why? Because the Treekeepers told me to.
I met three of the Treekeepers last weekend during a Chicago Places & Spaces tour of Peanut Park -- a sweet little appendix to Grant Park that’s tucked alongside Lakeshore Drive within sight of Oprah’s building.
Treekeepers are “volunteers who have become certified by Openlands to give trees the care and maintenance they need to thrive in the urban forest.” And they train others, in workshops around the city of Chicago, in how to care for trees right.
When it comes to trees they know what’s what, and although they’re not vigilant in their evangelism I came away converted; came away wanting to carry a pruner in a holster around my waist, the way they did, pulling it out in an instant when they spotted a tree that had been poorly pruned, setting injustice right like Zorro did with a quick zip zip zip -- trimming the stub down to the nub so the tree could better heal and grow.
Like a parent placing a band aid where it needed to be and sealing it with a kiss.