Admission

My name is Robin, and I am an arborholic. Some call it OCTPD (Obsessive Compulsive Tree-Planting Disorder). Simply put, I can’t stop planting trees and other woody perennials, especially roses. No matter how many I plant or transplant, it’s never enough.

Last spring, the act of planting dozens of saplings and shrublings was so arduous that I was certain I’d had my fill. And one would think that last summer’s excessive heat and drought might have cured my addiction, due to the sheer amount of time and labor that went into keeping the little things from dying of desiccation. Then in the fall, the job of fencing all the young trees to protect them from the cows should have convinced me to give up the habit for good.

But spring is around the corner, and I’m having cravings.

Because I’ve ordered so many windbreak trees from our local conservation service, they know me by name and send me a tree order form every January. Hubby found this year’s order in the mailbox before I did, and he threw it away before I could see it. That’s as fruitless as flushing a smoker’s cigarettes down the toilet or draining an alcoholic’s bottle in the sink—removing the temptation doesn’t fix the problem.

Besides, I know where the conservation service office is. It’s probably not too late to put in an order….

“You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.” –ISAIAH 55:12 (NIV)