Tu b'Shevat is here.

It's Tu b'Shevat again--the New Year of Trees. I, however, am lazy. Therefore, in honor of the day, I'll just direct you to my thoughts on the topic from last year.

The dream lives.

On Today's episode of Oprah, they featured people keeping Dr. King's dream alive. One story was about two unlikely cousins.

Vy, An African-American artist from Harlem found she and Marion, a white elderly cattle rancher from Missouri were cousins. When he first contacted her, he did not know she was African-American. It's unclear from the show or the article whether he was made aware of that, but there's footage of them meeting at the airport for the first time and it appears that's when he first learns of their differences. He throws down his coat, gives her a big bear hug and says in an astonished tone, "Cousins? Isn't that beautiful!"

That left me breathless and in tears. Their differences could have been startling or shocking or even disconcerting, but no, he found their differences and their ties beautiful. How wonderful!

In My Garden Grows a Tree

In my garden
grows a tree,
Dances day
And night for me,
Four in a bar
Or sometimes three
To music secret
As can be
Nightly to
Its hidden tune
I watch it move
Against the moon,
Dancing to
A silent sound,
One foot planted
In the ground.
Dancing tree,
When may I hear
Day or night
Your music clear?
What the note
And what the song
That you sing
The seasons long?
It is written
Said the tree,
On the pages
Of the sea;
It is there
At every hand
On the pages
Of the land;
Whether waking
Or in dream:
Voice of meadow-grass
And stream,
And out of
The ringing air
Voice of sun
And moon and star.
It is there
For all to know
As tides shall turn
And wildflowers grow:
There for you
And there for me,
Said the glancing
Dancing tree.
From Collected Poems for Children by Charles Causley

Ima on and off the bima's recent post inspired me to post this.

It's Tu B'shevat. We went to a Tu B'Shevat seder yesterday and it was lovely. As part of the seder, we read a slightly different version of the story Ima posted.

Honi came across an elderly man planting a carob tree with his grandson. Honi laughed at the man and said, "Silly old man, do you really think you'll live long enough to enjoy the fruit of your labor?" The man replied, "I eat today from my grandfather's tree." Honi then fell into a deep sleep. 70 years later, he awoke to find a huge carob tree and an elderly man tending it. Honi asked, "Are you the same man I saw planting this tree long ago?" The man replied, "No, that was my grandfather."

And now, I'll share two stories about trees.



With our ice storms last year, many trees were lost. One of my friends lost this tree in her back yard. That was the tree she, her husband and their son planted 8 years ago in honor of the baby daughter they lost. She was still born.

Here's a happier story for you.
This is why I love the Honi story so very much. I have lived it.

My grandfather was plant crazy. He planted trees all over the property. I was lucky enough to grow up in the same house where he had lived. So even though he died just before my 7th birthday, I grew up with evidence of him all around me. Time and weather have destroyed all but the one that stands in front of my parents' house. I played under the shade of all of those trees, but especially that one in the front. As a child, I studied its branches from my parents' bedroom window. I remember the times I tried in vain to climb that trunk. It has grown over the years, so now, when I visit, I can see the bright green leaves from the front door. That tree has been there through my father's childhood, mine and now, my children's. I have a deep affection for that tree. Its roots and mine are intertwined.