I grew up in a tiny, tiny town about 45 miles north of Green Bay, Wisconsin. We moved there from the western part of the state right after my sister was born, so I was 4 years old. Northwestern Wisconsin is affectionately known to Wisconsinites as the “Northwoods” because it is absolutely covered in forests with countless lakes and rivers all the way up to the shores of Lake Superior. Northeastern Wisconsin is much more agricultural. Think of its reputation as the dairy state. There are trees to be sure, but you have to go up into Michigan's Upper Peninsula (da UP, eh!) to get anything like the western forests.

So we show up to this new little town, me preparing to enter kindergarten, my dad starting a new job and my mom raising a newborn. We rented a house right off the main intersection and home to the only stoplights in town. It was close to the school and there were ample sidewalks for cruising on my bigwheel, but as a tot, the size of my world was quite small, and so were the nearby trees.

But not long after, my parents bought their first house, the house I spent the next 13 years in. It was a modest home near the edge of town, on a quiet leafy street that ended at a feedmill (remember this is farm country) and the railroad tracks. I was young enough that moving across town, even this little town, meant that I lost regular hang out time with the friends from my old block. So I spent most of my time exploring the new world of our yard. Even though the house only sat on about 1/3 of an acre, it had some incredible trees.

My first real memories of trees are in the front yard of that house. There were (and still are!) two humongous maple trees growing outward at a 30 degree angle from one another. The house was built in the 1940s, but these trees must have been older than that. They were so massive that the area in between and around them served as a natural playground for years to come. I learned all about bugs and birds and squirrels from those trees. My sister and I climbed all over them, hid in their nooks and crannies, drew pictures with chalk in our driveway under their shade.

I think of them now, in my 30s, whenever I plant a new street or yard tree. Not every child has regular access to forested spaces, but even having a few trees nearby their home can really be impactful. In these times of home school during quarantine, some nice yard trees could serve as an outdoor classroom for all kinds of lessons. I know the trees in my yard certainly taught me a lot and likely contributed to my love and appreciation for trees as an adult.

Throughout the years, my parents had plenty of opportunities to remove those trees. Their roots created cracks and raised spots in our driveway, but I'm so thankful that they didn't. They realized that the value of those trees far exceeded the smoothness of a driveway. My parents sold that home and moved back to Northwestern Wisconsin about 5 years ago. I don't get back to my hometown too often, but the last time I was there, I drove by the old house and those two maples were still there. It was like seeing old friends.

-Ryan H., Tacoma