Enjoying the Trees of Reed College

When I left Reed College (Portland, OR) in May 1988 after teaching six years as a professor of religion and humanities, I wasn't sure if and when I would ever return. I ended up, however, going back for Maury Goldschmidt's memorial service in 1993. Then, to my surprise, I received an invitation to the "First Annual" Religious Studies Department reunion in March 2004 (I don't think there has been another such reunion). I attended that event and wrote about it here. As I drove away from Reed after that occasion, I thought I would return to "mix it up" intellectually with colleagues old and new on a future occasion. To my surprise, however, I have been on campus a few times since then but each time for a "non-interaction-with-humans" occasion. Today it was to study some of the thousand or so trees that grow on campus, and which have been carefully catalogued and mapped online. Reed's effort to document and describe its trees is so superior to that of Willamette or any other school in Oregon I have visited that I feel it a sort of privilege just to walk through the campus with lists in hand. There are mistakes, sure enough (I will mail them to the adminstrator if I get around to it), and several trees have been cut down since the pages were written, but in general the maps are accurate and precise. This essay describes some of the joys, and lessons, of my "tree-walk" today.

Getting Started

The "tree map" of Reed College is divided into 33 grids, each one of which is about 70 or so yards square. To study the trees properly, you should have a copy of the maps and slowly walk through the grids, noting what you see and even taking notes when the occasion arises. I managed to "cover" five grids today consisting of a total of 200 trees (63 distinct species). As I went from tree to tree, observing, touching, smelling, smiling, looking down and up and around, I gradually felt myself being pulled away from this world and the cares and challenges of it, and being drawn into another, where I could hear and learn from the trees. I recall on one occasion looking at a specific tree, pausing for a moment and then saying out loud, "Wow, you're a tulip tree!"--as if I was re-connecting with an old friend I hadn't seen for years. Three points especially stay with me from my walk today: (1) How Trees Discipline Me; (2) How Trees Instruct Me; and (3) How Trees Delight Me. Let's spend some time on each.

I. The Discipline of the Trees

Trees, like people, beckon us to understand them. Like people, they each have their own identity, even though they have family resemblances to others in their species. But often when you look at trees, you are confused for moment as you try to identify them, and then you look for "telltale signs" of their genus and species. Is there a "blue cross" on the back of the fronds? What is the precise shape of the oak-like or maple-like leaf? Does the trunk taper or spread out? The discipline of the trees means that trees force us to take our time to study them closely in order to determine what it is. For example, of the 63 species of trees I was exposed to today, seven of them were species of pine. I saw Japanese Black Pines and Japanese Red Pines and Ponderosa Pines and Austrian Pines and Scotch Pines and Jeffrey Pines and one Western White Pine.

The discipline of the trees means that each pine tree tells me to look closely at it to determine which "kind" it is. Are its needles short or long? Are they bunched or in small numbers? What is the shape of their cones? How "full" is the tree? You can imagine that people would use a Western White Pine for a Christmas tree, though the Scotch Pine is not so frequently used. Another example is the elms. Today I saw American elms and English Elms and Scottish Elms and Smooth-leaved Elms and Dutch elms (I think there also was a Chinese elm in there, but it didn't look very "elmish"). I still don't think I have a very good grasp on how to distinguish most of these trees. Thus, the discipline of the trees will force me to make sure I understand the difference between a paper and river birch, a red oak and a bur oak and a pin oak and a scarlet oak, etc.

II. How Trees Instruct Me

They teach me not only by forcing me to go slowly and try to identify them faithfully, but they teach me by encouraging me to try to "see life" from their experience. Many of the trees were planted in the last 30 or so years. For example, the one Persian Parrotia on campus was planted near the computing office in memory of a faithful dog Butch who "worked" at the office with his master for the decade of his life from 1993-2002. A few sweet gums were planted by a former biology colleague of mine, Bert Brehm, during his tenure at the college from the 1960s -1990s. But then there are some trees whose life extends at least to the beginning of the college's history. They have seen, as it were, all the academic processions, all the heartache, all the achievement, all the ebb and flow of intellectual life at this special college. They have provided shade (and dropped some leaves) on the just and the unjust. By standing under their shade or near their presence today, I let them also teach and search me, as I tried to understand them. I asked them what it was like to "see Reed" from their vantage point. Reedies disappear and new ones appear, but the trees seemingly last forever.

III. How Trees Delight Me

Trees delight me, frankly, both by their familiarity and their newness. I have several "aha" moments as I look closely at the fronds of a tree and say, "Yep, this is a Port-Orford cedar and not a Nootka or a Western Red Cedar..." But then I also invariably meet new dendrological friends along the way. Reed has some rare and striking trees, among them two empress trees (Paulownia tomentosa), a Chinese photinia (Photinia serratifolia), a hedge maple (Acer campestre), David's maple (Acer davidii), the aforementioned Persian parrotia (Parrotia persica) and a Deerhorn Cedar (Thujopsis dolabrata). Time would fail me to tell something about each of these trees, but suffice it to say that each one stopped me in my tracks, made me say "uncle" before (with the help of the guide) telling me what it was. I was especially delighted to make the acquaintance of the Paulownia because this was a word in a 2004 or 2005 Oregon Senior spelling bee that everyone (myself included) missed. Now that I have a very clear picture in my mind of this empress tree, I know I will never misspell Paulownia again. As I have often said, spelling is easy--if you just know everything. I am far from knowing even a little about trees, but I feel that my efforts are being rewarded. Certainly I felt that way today.

Conclusion

I look at these "marked" tree tours as my "baby steps" in identifying trees. Once I can identify hundreds of varieties with confidence and exactness, I can "throw away" the "crutch" of maps and guides and then just dive into the old friends. I long for that day. As a result of a few hours on the Reed campus, I feel I am a little closer to that now.

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