A Tree Is a Tree

On an early date, my now-husband took me for a walk in a State Park. I must have told him that I didn't know a lot about flora and fauna, because I remember him pointing out and naming every tree we passed during the couple of hours that we wandered around. On the way back, he would point to the various trees he had "taught" me. It went like this: Him: "What's this?" Me: "A tree." Him: "What kind of tree?" Me: (after a brief pause to see if anything surfaced) "Green." It took a little time for him to realize I wasn't trying to be funny. He was clearly disappointed, but I must have had some other redeeming qualities because that wasn't our last date. I've had to face the fact: I am nature-impaired. Not totally nature-inept, but definitely impaired. I can tell an evergreen from the leafy sort. I recognize a maple and oak by the shape of their leaves. And we have dogwoods, so I know them ... when they're blooming at least. I hope you don't think less of me because of this deficit. I've come to terms with it and have managed to live a full life in spite of it. Every once in a while, I do get to show off. Thanks to a nature walk I took with my Brownie troop decades ago, I learned to recognize a sassafras bush. Okay, it's not exactly a tree, but let's not get too picky. The sassafras grows three different shaped leaves¬ all on the one bush. I don't see them very often, but when I do, I'm right there to point them out to friends and strangers alike. And I feel redeemed.