Palm Tree

This past Sunday-- Fathers Day-- while my wife went off in the afternoon to practice with her music group for a performance next weekend, I got on my bike to follow a neighborhood stoop sale notice on Craigslist for an Oriental rug from the Caucasus. I have no room for any more rugs, but I think they are beautiful and I always enjoy looking at them. Besides, it was a warm, sunny day, perfect for a little ride and my endless interest in tchotchkes of many kinds.

As it turned out, I was too late for the sale, but on the way back I passed an imposing palm tree plant lying forlonly on its side by the curb with other garbage awaiting pickup. The plant was being discarded by the church located at that corner on Sixth Avenue in Park Slope. You really couldn't blame them for discarding it. The palm was clearly on its way out, containing many dying branches with ugly brown leaves. But I have always regarded myself as something of a rescuer of distressed plants, feeling that with proper care they can often return to life and lend great beauty to my home.

I am no plant expert by any means, and at home I am only responsible for indoor plants. My wife, on the other hand, has actual knowledge of outdoor plants and manages our backyard garden in a way that often garners great praise from neighbors. As an "instinctual" plant lover, however, I sensed great possibilities with the fallen giant before me. With some pruning, I could see lots of healthy green palm fronds remaining. Clearly,a plant in this condition had no place inside the magnificent 19th century stone church standing in front of me, filled as it was with beautiful stained glass windows and located on well-tended grounds. The backyard of my home, however, was a different story.

Since this plant was easily seven-plus feet tall with its container and lush with green and brown fronds, I must have created some local color carrying it home in one hand (oddly light despite its size) while riding my bike. The young kids at the stoop sale next door to my house gazed in wonder and asked if I had really biked that thing home.

Once in the backyard, I went to work pruning. When I was done, I discarded the rubbish and examined my work. To my delight, the trimmed plant was beautiful and well worth keeping. As is often the case, whenever I feel the soil of an abandoned plant, it is either drowning from over-watering by the prior owner or bone dry from neglect-- in this case the latter.

I didn't check on the plant again until this afternoon. It already appears to be thriving, after getting a good watering and plenty of sunshine. Although the scale and importance are totally disproportionate, my palm tree experience gave me a little insight into the tremendous sense of joy and satisfaction which others must derive from real rescue operations, ranging from saving pets and wildlife to humanitarian efforts to combat hunger and disease around the world.