The Not Yet Garden Part 2 - The Status of Pecan Trees

When showing us our new house, our realtor was quick to point out that Pecan trees are status symbols. That was before we received corroboration of that fact from our house inspector. Since anyone can buy and plant a Pecan Tree I don’t understand how that translates to status which always seemed to me a relative term, but eager to embrace those norms of my new culture that seem harmless enough, I accept whatever status my tree has to offer. Perhaps it’s a status symbol because the nut itself is a delicacy of some sort, or so it seems if you watch the squirrels in our yard ravenously devouring small bits from these gourmet snacks and then hurling the remaining shell with all their squirrel strength down on this parish priest trying to think deep thoughts on his back porch. The patter of falling nuts is charming - or so I tried to imagine - for the first few weeks of life here in Norfolk - charming enough so that we purchased, as a joke, a few construction helmets to hand out to visitors who were courageous enough to test our “back porch” and take in a glimpse of our enormous status symbol.   As the weeks passed we added to our basic back porch gear of citronella candles, barbecue tools, and construction helmets, a supply of bandages because it seems that these gourmet nuts from this status symbol tree of ours, have pointy ends that can leave quite a dent. Now after several weeks of “Squirrel - Pecan Sorties,” this annoying bunch of rodents has exhausted my patience. My vision – my very particular plans for particular plants in particular places are beginning to shift.  

Our dogs have gone hoarse from barking at these furry little bombardiers, who have found safe haven in this status symbol of a Pecan Tree. Our two dogs, Archie and Roscoe, leap up towards the branches of this tree for hours on end in futile attempts to catch one of these fluffy little terrorists. Now this leaping activity of our two dogs has not been entirely in vain. You see, the incessant jumping has strengthened our dog’s legs and hips - so much so that last week, Roscoe, our previously overweight and contented mutt, successfully sprang over our fence and ended up in that body of brackish water a few blocks from our house called The Hague. His weight loss although enough to get him over our fence was not enough to climb out of the Hague on his own. And so he had to be fished out by our panicked son and a passing jogger with a soft spot in his heart for exhausted, wet, stinky dogs, with great leaping skills. This garden of tranquility, anchored in the shade of the giant Pecan tree, is becoming a hazardous zone. 

Then came Hurricane Bonnie. Now I realize that Hurricane Bonnie was temporarily downgraded to a tropical storm, but for one who has little experience with 75 mile per hour winds, it will remain a hurricane in my family’s mythology. My status symbol Pecan tree has probably weathered hundreds of storms like Bonnie. But it has become a little set in its ways - not quite as flexible as in previous years - and accordingly lost several of its branches – some that were quite large. One of these falling arms crushed my next-door neighbor’s Japanese maple tree that they’ve been nurturing for three years; another branch laid itself to rest in my other neighbor’s yard decapitating their concrete meditating Buddha; and one more branch neatly severed my electrical wires, leaving me without power for nearly a week. Conveniently, my wife and children were in New Jersey visiting family and so were spared any inconvenience and still remain somewhat perplexed at the depth of my passion on this subject now having returned to a home with full power and no apparent damage, other than a trimmed status symbol Pecan Tree. 

The real benefit to “Bonnie,” it turns out, was that it opened the door for some uninhibited discussion with my neighbors about our Pecan tree, who finally found the courage to set aside customary Southern courtesies and tell me how they really feel about this great big, status symbol that for years has dropped nuts, sap, branches and its own peculiar worm-like flowers into their yards by the ton.  The passion with which these tales were delivered to me indicated that this was a subject visited regularly within the privacy of their own homes. 

The first tree surgeon arrived yesterday to give me an estimate on ending the reign of this tree over its kingdom of three back yards. He looked at the tree; then he looked at the recently replaced wires overhead; then he stared at the remaining extended branches reaching over into three yards. He paused, smiled, and with all six teeth plainly visible, asked, “Did ya’ know this tree is a status symbol?” My plans for a garden of respite - with my status symbol Pecan tree as the centerpiece have changed.  What now? 

You know, those who make precise plans for their life impress me. I’ll graduate from this school, marry this kind of person, start my career, earn “x” by the time I’m age whatever, we’ll have our first child five years later, we’ll have two boys and one girl, and live in this neighborhood or that, have this kind of house… and we’ll have a Pecan tree in the back yard! I wonder if their plans work out as neatly as they would have the rest of us believe.  I wonder if they really know about Pecan trees.