By Staff
Back in the '70s my father and mother-in-law spent much of their retirement years traveling.
Trips out West, to the Southwest, to the Eastern seaboard states, all points north and all states south of the Mason-Dixon line.
On one such trip from Calloway Gardens, Mom Wiersma brought me back a gift (she was always giving someone something; she was a very giving person).
It was a small tree, only 18 to 24 inches tall. It didn't look like much, all brown and twiggy.
Immediately I thought, great, how long before it dies?
I didn't want to seem ungrateful, but I could read the look on her face.
It said this "tree" was special (she also bought other garden goodies as well, including a crabapple she gave me), but I also didn't want to be blamed for its death, when and if it died, either.
As she handed it to me, I cradled it in my arms as I examined it more closely.
I noticed its ticket, which read that it was a dogwood.
A very special dogwood, if I can remember correctly.
I believe its name is Cherokee Chief, a very free-flowering tree with masses of rich, rosy-red-toned flowers, foliage with varying hues of crimson at the close of fall, followed by small, shiny, red fruit.
Down through the many years, lots of seasons have come and gone, and so many memories later.
What brought up this column was the passing of my husband George's father, George B.
Mom Wiersma passed in 1991. They are both gone now.
Today, after all the tender loving care it has received, my little brown twig of a tree is more than 20 feet tall.
What joy it has brought me and my family, and so many others have enjoyed it, too.
In the spring, many who walk, jog or drive by have also appreciated my gift almost as much as I do, think, judging by the books on their faces.
Some actually have stopped and gotten out of their vehicles to get a better, closer look and take pictures of my treasure.
Oh, if only I had more room, I would plant many, many more.
Dogwoods offer so much, lovely flowers of red, pink and white.
In autumn, the foliage takes on an array of hues, ending in red, graceful horizontal branches and, lastly, all those shiny red berries.
In the fall, my dogwood supplies and hosts a group of cedar waxwing birds with a feast.
They gobble every red berry in sight.
Speaking of more dogwoods, I'm now searching for the variety called C. kousa "Wolf Eyes," with variegated, wavy-edged leaves and white flowers.
One last thing, on the ticket it also read, "Be careful not to plant this one in the front yard, especially if you live on a busy street, unless you are in the auto body repair business!"
One last, last thing.
Thank you Mom and Dad Wiersma, you know for what.