A Tiny But Memorable Moment

There have been many celebrations and remembrances and convocations.  

Concerts have been held.  

T-shirts have been printed

for races

for ceremonies with the President

and for those concerts

The events have been large and well-attended and recorded for posterity on video and still cameras alike.  Attendees arrived early to secure seats.  Microphones were used.  Sometimes there was a JumboTron.  There were always some tears and there were always some smiles and some of the faces began to look familiar.  

Today was something different.

Without much publicity, without any fanfare, 2 film makers from Maui dropped by Northwest Community Park this morning.  They are driving across the southern part of America, planting native trees and wishes written on pieces of a brown paper grocery bag they thoughtfully provide. 
The hope is that the tree and the wishes will both flourish and grow.

They brought with them the velvet mesquite sitting forlornly in its hole up there.

Our Parks and Rec Arborist smiled broadly

as the Master Gardener in me wondered why he had not scored the root ball.  Laughing aloud, he explained that there were no roots circling the edges and that he had had experience with my ilk before and appreciated the love we showed for growing things. 

I was abashed but not convinced.  On the other hand, of all the trees I've planted myself here in the desert, only one has survived.  

Perhaps I'd better take some lessons from this guy?

Plant A Wish also brought a mock-up of the permanent marker which will be placed nearby.

There was an amplifier

but Supervisor Ann Day didn't need it as she shared her thoughts about mesquite trees and Tucson and healing.  

Gabe's mother planted our wishes

and then the golden shovels

got to work.

This photo shows that it is nearly impossible to use a shovel while balancing on a walker.

The whole event lasted less than an hour.
There was no brouhaha.
There was one reporter from the neighborhood's free newspaper.  He had a telephoto lens and a notebook.   He did not have a network feed.

The tree was in the ground and the sun was announcing itself with authority and it was time to go. 

I stopped to say "Hi" to Christina on my way past her tree.