Natures Notebook

I'm Still Standing

I have been knocked down in life, as have you. Our hearts have been crushed by the loss of a loved one. We have been set back financially, only to start over again. Our health has failed us at times, and so has our confidence. Carefully constructed plans have been revealed to be castles made of sand. Yet, we continue to wake up each morning and persevere.

Resilience is part of the human condition. The ancient Greeks understood our struggles well, and their mythology remains relevant after more than two thousand years. The story of the King of Corinth, Sisyphus, symbolizes the power of perseverance. Each day Sisyphus awakens to the task of rolling a huge stone up a mountain, only to discover the stone again at the bottom of the mount the next day. Hercules was challenged by twelve dangerous labors that he successfully overcame despite his suffering.

As fall transitions to winter, for many, it is the opportunity to evaluate and start anew, to adjust the plan. But for me, there is no greater metaphor for resilience than the deciduous cycle of trees. Each fall the leaves dry and float away, resulting in a winter skeleton of despair. But despite the pall of the tree’s appearance, we are confident that spring will end the lifelessness, and green swelling buds will proclaim the glory of resurrection.

Hurricane Ian crashed through Southwest Florida like an invisible, invading army. Wind driven swords sliced and stabbed at the trees, threshing leaves and stems from branches. Trees that have stood their ground for decades were mowed down by transparent battle tanks of wind and rain. Imperial Stormtroopers of poisonous salt water followed the initial assault, inundating anything left upright. An hour after the storm I stood at ground zero, overcome with helplessness. The landscape that I nurtured for the last 18 years was now a war zone.

Adansonia digitata is native to the African continent and the southern Arabian Peninsula. It is the source of many differing culture’s indigenous remedies, traditions, and folklore. It has earned the nickname, “The Tree of Life.” Radiocarbon dating has shown some individual trees to be over 2,000 years old, perhaps existing during the time of the ancient Greeks. The Baobab tree’s long life, combined with its massive size perhaps demonstrates the ultimate in sylvan resilience.

Two days after the storm, I visited Shell Point’s flowering tree arboretum. Rounding the corner behind the Arbor, I noticed the pretty wooden gazebo was intact. Walking into the arboretum, I winced at what I found. The Ylang-Ylang Tree was stripped bare of leaves and branches like a forlorn telephone pole. The African Tulip Tree had fallen onto a Pink Shower Tree, breaking some of its branches. In the back of the arboretum, I was overwhelmed to see our sole specimen of the Baobab tree. Despite being stripped of leaves, it was still upright. Looking closer, I noticed a minute green bud on a branch tip. It was a glimmer of hope, a harbinger of life. As this year draws to a close, we are still standing!