Hitting a giant mental roadblock, I’ve struggled with this post more than any other.

As my handful of faithful readers know, history is not my motivation. I set forth on this project thinking about hunting down old trees. I love taking nature hikes, going on garden and prairie tours — this kind of thing is my idea of fun. It’s just dawning on me that I’m may have to learn some history in the process as well.

Or maybe not…

The Famous Trees of Texas website has a page listing the entries according to historical topic. Eight trees are listed under the category: Sam Houston, four of which are dead. The Houston Campsite Oak, in nearby Coppell, is one of the living.

When I was a kid, Texas required public school 7th graders to take a year of Texas history. Nothing to brag about, but I recall nothing except map pencils. I was a terrible student, paying minimal attention to anything that didn’t spur my interest — likely undiagnosed ADHD. My parents repeatedly fussed at me that I didn’t apply myself and they were kinda right.

Staying pretty much in character, I remain largely disinterested in serious research.

Hey, but I did google Sam Houston and learned that as a young teen, he ran away from his family to live with the Cherokee, spending three years gaining acceptance and learning the language.

From there, I dove into a bit of a swamp, thinking I should get a better grasp of this history that I’ve long avoided.

Surely it would offer me perspective if I read most of God Save Texas A Journey Into the Soul of the Lone Star State by Lawrence Wright, whose earlier work I had appreciated.

An intriguing passage describes Sam Houston’s mysterious/disasterous weeks-long marriage, after which he retreated back to the Cherokee, who formally adopted him. Chief Oolooteka, gave him a name that translates to The Raven, and he married a member of the tribe. Eventually returning to so-called civilization, relations with Native Americans became an imperative to him, showing up to government meetings dressed in traditional Cherokee dress to speak up for peaceful policies.

Digging around to understand the time period, or perhaps just visiting the dark playground of procrastination, I got the idea to search for the most popular song of 1843, called Old Dan Tucker, and found a video performance. Its lyrics were often improvised by various artists and its tune reminds me of the more familiar Stay a Little Longer, by one of my favorites: Bob Wills.

Since like, yeah, history is now connected to trees, I created this John Muir quote graphic.

I wasn’t writing.

I can’t tell you how many places I heard reference to Steven Pressfield’s book The War of Art while agonizing over this post.

All of my scattered activity is a form of what is known as RESISTANCE.

I suppose I’m searching for justification for tackling this project at all.

I mean, how many ways can I write about: Middle-Aged Lady Visits a Tree? 

But that question: why bother? is a classic Resistance quicksand pit.

It’s obvious that this meandering is the powerful force described in The War of Art, that I’m allowing to keep me from making progress.

My dear friend Johnette joined me to visit this tree in December. It took me until JUNE to beat down resistance and complete the writing. Meanwhile I snuck off to visit 4 other trees (the fun part) and got completely backlogged with work (again).

Grapevine Springs Park has a well kept community garden brimming with kale, broccoli and a pile of orange, gray and white pumpkins. Pink light emanated from a empty greenhouse. Retaining walls, built in the 1930s by the WPA of brown lichen-covered stone give retro vibes.

This fantastically huge, beautiful post oak (Quercus stellata) was leafless on this cloudy, mild December day. Because so many trees I’ve seen so far have been live oaks, I was absolutely thrilled to see a different species. This is indeed a grand specimen and my favorite tree so far. Also exciting that this one is close enough to revisit and watch as it changes through the seasons.

I can’t wait to see it leaf out.

Because the house I grew up in was surrounded by them, I have a special fondness for Post Oaks. My father’s 14 acres in Grandview, TX, south of Ft Worth, also has a small forest with a number of them. The one and only time I dreamed of flying, I personally soared over a grove of post oaks below.

A friend suggested that I vlog, so I thought I would give it a whirl. It’s a way to see the tree and learn a bit without all that pesky reading. This is my first attempt at tree video and I’m smiling like a dork. Without a plan, I simply started shooting, so as not to overthink it. It was fun to capture a bit of sound and movement along with my goofy excitement and genuine reverence for the tree. The gratification is immediate: Here it is! I found it! Yet posting something seemed to make the work of writing a bigger challenge.

Always bolstered by a companion, I’m extra thankful that Johnette shared her photos. The irresistible tree hugger shot, admittedly cliché and a bit self centered, is nevertheless the best way to understand the huge scale of the tree from a photo. It’s difficult to grasp the enormity with a view from far away.

We spent a good while collecting pix and then walked around exploring the rest of the park. The small creek you see in the video runs toward a drainage ditch that seemed to blend the wild and the civilized. Geometrically paved areas crumbled in places and grasses sowed themselves in the cracks. Graffiti sprayed over the cement and a slope of leafless trees grew on the other side.

Though we were close to home, this little excursion was deeply satisfying, perhaps more so, since this pocket-sized nature experience required little to no preparation.

We left to enjoy an early dinner, passing a big, generic metal sculpture on our way out. Johnette ranted about a near duplicate she had seen somewhere else. Was this some sort of bulk discount prefabrication for new construction? Our friend at an art publication confirmed that she is inundated with info from PR companies used by developers putting “public art” in their projects, likely gaining a tax break for doing so.

A sculptural tree like this one cannot be acquired at a cut rate, nor can you get it in volume and certainly not overnight. As part of a larger ecosystem, it must grow at the pace of nature as life and history unfolds under and around it. 

The week before I finished this post, I listened on the radio during my workday to the funeral of George Floyd, held in the town named for Sam Houston. Using his platform to advocate for Native Americans is a model we must exemplify. Equality demands that those in power speak up.