Minnesota Prairie Roots

MY AUNT JEANETTE has been duly informed.

The ancient cottonwood stands on the north edge of Vesta.

If she ever attempts to have the massive/towering/gigantic cottonwood in her yard cut down, I will be right there hugging that tree.

Now I am not a tree hugger in the true definition of a tree hugger. I would not scamper onto the limb of a tree to prevent its removal. For one thing, I am not agile like a squirrel. Secondly, I am not an outspoken, protesting type person, at least not in public.

But I did protest privately to my aunt when she mentioned cutting down that beautiful sprawling cottonwood gracing her yard.

The tree is messy, she explained, wondering then if I’d like to clean up the cottony seeds and sticky bud capsules dropped onto her lawn.

Point taken.

Yet, this cottonwood deserves special consideration given it’s likely the oldest tree in my southwestern Minnesota prairie hometown. It’s certainly the biggest in girth and the tallest tree in this community of some 320.

I can imagine the early settlers arriving in this mostly treeless land, wind-bent prairie grasses stretching for miles before them. And then, in the distance, the shimmering leaves of a cottonwood.

Or perhaps one of them brought a cottonwood seedling here, planted it on the north edge of this new prairie town.

Decades later, a tire swing looped by a rope to a limb, the sturdy cottonwood still stands strong against the vast prairie sky in my beloved hometown.

© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling