One of the few specimens on my list that is not a Live Oak,

this was a highly anticipated visit, which serendipitously occurred just as its beautiful, yellow leaves were starting to turn.

For years, I have been trying to properly time this visit, so as to glimpse the fantastic golden display for which ginkgoes are known. It just so happened that my teenage son August, who loves collecting musical instruments, had found a low cost offering from an online marketplace in a small town southwest of Tyler in the autumn. 

We agreed on a little road trip to pick up an inexpensive drum set, with the stipulation that, after he got what he wanted, I would get to visit my ginkgo.

This plan went slightly south when we arrived in Frankston and he realized that the seller with the “great deal” had not conveyed that he would be unavailable. August was furious that his attempts to communicate had been ignored and completely dismayed that our whole trip been for nothing.

However, all was not lost for me!

My dear, musical teen was not at all pleased when I reminded him of the tree visit, which required an additional trek in the wrong direction. He had already started working a new deal on his phone back in Dallas. He refused to leave the vehicle while I hopped out to document. I was happy to have caught a little bit of the autumn transition. 

Confusingly, there are two ginkgos at Tyler City Hall, so I was uncertain as to which one was famously gifted by Japanese Ambassador Richard Bennett Hubbard.

In fact, I’m talking about the wrong tree in the videos.

My first edition hardback entry mentions a scar on the tree. The smaller of the two ginkgoes bore this wound, which appeared as something more like a near-death experience, caused by a lightning strike sometime before 1970, when the original edition was published. Other branches are broken off. Overall, it’s not in good shape.

Stretching for light amongst multiple others, this scrawny tree looks as though it could be nearly hollow in the center. No telling if that’s true, however, because there are sheets of metal riveted together covering the gaping crevice.

Who thought that was a good idea?

OMG I hate metal edging. Particularly in a tiny circle around trees. WHY??? Humans don’t control nature.

The City Hall of Tyler could use a horticultural consultant.

Is that a fucking invasive PRIVET sprouting from the base of a so-called FAMOUS tree??? (I believe its a yaupon holly Ilex vomitoria).

I can’t with this.

Checking the books after returning home, I surmised that the pitiful smaller tree was indeed, the more “famous” of the two. I guess the other one is like a backup plan? SMH

The 2015 update included just one unflattering photo of the sheet metal becoming absorbed by the tree trunk, referring to it as a “living fossil.”

Barely :/

Not exactly awe inspiring, with an ugly water utilities building behind it, the other tree is larger. At least it has plenty of room for its branches to spread.

With the impatient kid waiting, this was a quickie. Noting my photo time stamps, I spent more minutes writing this post than I did seeing the trees.

Kiddo and I circled the city square in Tyler before high-tailing it back to Dallas, where we picked up a $50 drum set from a kinder and more communicative seller, not fifteen minutes from our home. I felt grateful, not only for the long-awaited viewing, but that he gained some valuable wheeling and dealing experience.

This unusual tree with its fan-shaped leaves is located near the southeast corner of the City Hall lawn, in Tyler.