Rhiannon’s Tree

A six-year old mind is so full of wonder about the world surrounding them. So  ready to learn and soak up all life has to offer. These feelings must be nurtured  every chance we get. We must strive not to destroy their beautiful, innocent minds  as they continue to grow up and take their place in an adult world. 

Our youngest son, Ben, along with the rest of his class, was tasked with planting  seeds in some little pots. He had to document daily what he observed. You know  the type of pot – square or round-shaped and made of hardened peat moss. Ben and  I dutifully went to the store to purchase the pots and some bean seeds which the  teacher had suggested we use. With a bit of help he planted the seeds and placed  them in a sunny window. He watered them faithfully and carefully noted the  changes that occurred.  

Soon he was rewarded with tiny little sprouts pushing their way out of the soil.  Several days later the little sprouts produced two leaves which soon unfurled and  turned their surfaces towards the sun. We had bought a little diary where he  recorded the bean’s growth. The day finally arrived to take his bean plants to  school. By this time, each pot had a very gangly bean vine hanging over the side.  To my eye, the bean plants looked a little anemic, but that didn’t matter to Ben as  he was super proud of his plant-growing prowess. By all reports, his presentation  went well and life in our household moved on. 

Four days later, after making his presentation, he burst through the door at the  end of the school day. He was reverently carrying a small brown paper bag, and his  huge brown eyes were sparkling. He opened the bag and pulled out three small  peat pots. Each pot contained a small sprouted plant that was clearly not anything  like his green bean plants. The sprouts were about three inches tall and much  hardier looking than the bean plants he had grown and taken to school. He gazed  lovingly at the pots as he told me that Rhiannon had gifted him the plants. He went  on to relate that he was one of only two people that she entrusted with these little  pots.  

I was fairly certain it was the fact that it was Rhiannon who had singled him out  rather than the actual plants themselves that caused the excitement. Rhiannon was  a special friend of his. They had been close friends since nursery school days. She  was a lovely child with brown curls cascading down her back and big grey eyes.  

She was also blessed a little bit of Irish magic in her soul. Yes, our son was smitten  with Rhiannon, and her gift was worth so much to him. 

We carefully placed these plants in the spot where, several days before, his green  beans had been growing. He told me that Rhiannon’s beans had come from a very  special tree that grew in her yard, and she had shown him a picture of the tree.  Further investigation led to the discovery that these beans originated from the long  pods that grew on a Catalpa tree in her front yard. 

Our son nurtured these plants through the rest of the spring and subsequent  summer when we finally had to replant them into larger pots. He was really upset  when two of the three plants withered and died. With only one sturdy plant left, we  watched the plants progress during the winter. There really was not much to watch  as the plant had lost its leaves and all that was left was a tiny, woody stick poking  up out of the centre of the pot. We continued to sparingly water the little stick and  suddenly, in late spring, tiny new leaves sprouted out the top of the stick. The  leaves grew bigger, and then more continued to appear throughout the summer. By  this time, as with any boy his age, he had really lost interest in this special gift. He  had moved on to other, more important things in his 7-year-old life. I, however,  was quite taken by this sturdy little plant and continued to nurse it through several  more seasons, increasing its pot size at regular intervals.  

On the arrival of the 4th spring season the twig was beginning to look like a  small tree and I decided to put it outside in our lower garden. I planted it carefully  and surrounded it with a chicken wire fence to protect it from the grazing critters  that often wandered into our yard; I wished it good luck for its survival and went  on with my life. 

Life was busy and not much attention was paid to the little tree in the garden, but  it continued to thrive. Suddenly, it became tall enough to be noticed and continued  to grow. I kept increasing the size of its chicken wire fence until it appeared tall  and strong enough to fend for itself. By the time Ben left for University it had  grown into a 12 foot high tree. Spring would find it covered with white flowers,  and in the fall, it started to produce its own long pods, albeit initially, the number  of pods was a little sparse. 

Through some life-changing events in our lives, the Catalpa continued to thrive.  One day, while visiting with Rhiannon’s mother, who was dealing with some very  difficult medical treatments, I told her this story. The story opened up an enjoyable,  nostalgic trip down memory lane for both of us. Our family continued to refer to  the tree as Rhiannon’s tree, and I often pointed the tree out to friends who came to  visit. One day I made a small wooden plaque to place at the base of the tree which  simply read “Rhiannon’s tree, please love and nurture me to preserve the magic I  harbour inside”.