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Subject:
From:
Leland Torrence <[log in to unmask]>
Reply To:
The listserv where the buildings do the talking <[log in to unmask]>
Date:
Mon, 19 Apr 2010 14:43:59 -0400
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John,
Three years ago, at great risk, I smuggled three black walnut trees in from Canada, that my Uncle had grown me from seed from his trees.  They did quite well, and made it through the first winter.  Then the young son of the farmer next door plowed them under, protective barriers and all.
Sometimes it sucks to be a nut,
Leland

-----Original Message-----
From: The listserv where the buildings do the talking [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On Behalf Of John Leeke
Sent: Monday, April 19, 2010 10:19 AM
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: [BP] Zero Emissions Book Project

And, you don't need to buy a book to plant a tree. When I was five my 
dad taught me to pick up acorns or buckeyes and put them in my pocket. 
Then stick one in the ground when I come across a likely spot for a 
tree--fifty five years later I'm still doing it. Have any of those trees 
sprouted and grown?

I like to plant trees. I have always kept an acorn or buckeye in my 
pocket every day, so when I find a likely spot I can stick it in the 
earth. Last year I got back to Wabash, Nebraska, where, 47 years ago, my 
dad and I stopped by to talk with Wayne Robertson about his walnut trees 
down along Weeping Water Crick. I had stuck a buckeye in the ground at 
the edge of the lawn in front his old farmhouse. Wayne has passed away, 
but I was there with his son who had his little boy along. When I 
reached around that tree my fingers did not touch on the other side. We 
stood there talking about how old the tree is and how big it is. We all 
bent over to pick up a buckeye and put it in our pocket. He said his dad 
reminded him every summer to not mow down John’s horse chestnut tree. I 
said the tree didn’t belong to me, it must belong to him since he took 
care of it all those years. He looked at me, then at his own son and 
said, “Looks like I’m giving this tree to you.” His boy glanced at me, 
his eyes widened, bugging out. As he leaned back his gaze scanned up the 
trunk high into the tree and he fell over on the grass grinning then 
laughing.

John
www.HistoricHomeWorks.com

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