An Immigrant’s Dictionary of Beloved Trees

An Immigrant’s Dictionary of Beloved Trees

Ash tree overlooks my deck, her loveliness deserves all the fairy lights I adorn her with

Banana, I had a young one my height in my childhood garden. The leaves so broad, Jayshree’s whole wedding feast could be served on them. I have eaten off those plates.

Champa, the Indian Magnolia, with your overpowering fragrance, cream petals and a butterscotch center.

Eucalyptus, once I came upon pillars of you in a forest grove, rising sublime, your incense wafting in a wild cathedral.

Gulmohar, we kids stuck your green sepals on our finger-tips to make curving witchy nails

Honeysuckle, the spice of summer night pleasures.

Jackfruit with glossy leaves you can stitch into cups. Your squat green hippo-shaped fruit I don’t love.

Mango trees throw deep shade, enticing parrots with the scent of ripening fruit.

Oak, mighty Oak outside my bedroom window. My wise friend, my inspiration and rock in every season.

Papaya in our old backyard, slim and no-fuss, sharing generously your orange-yellow flesh, peppered with a hundred black seeds.

Tamarind your filigreed leaves chewed with its lip-smacking sour fruit make a fine childhood snack.

Weeping Cherry in frothing lace, shining outside the library window, you are the belle of the spring ball.