Houston Campsite Oak
Oh crap. I may have to learn some history. Or maybe not… and my first attempt at tree video.
Photo by Johnette Alter
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…
Photo by Johnette Alter
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.
The historical marker states that in 1843, Houston, then president of the Republic of Texas, camped with his compatriots under this oak waiting to meet with local Native American tribes to negotiate a peace treaty.
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.
“I am aware that in presenting myself as the advocate of the Indians and their rights, I shall stand very much alone.”
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.
From The War of Art by Steven Pressfield
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.
Photo by Johnette Alter
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.
Photo by Johnette Alter
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.
Old Baldy
“So…,” the guy asked me, “Why are you looking for Old Baldy?”
Will I get lost? For how long?
Another morning in Austin, where I’d racked up enough tree visits to start stomping down my imposter syndrome, aaaaaaaand slept with an old flame from back in my twenties, who aggravated me for the millionth time. On this unseasonably warm October day, I ditched that scenario and got back on the road to McKinney Falls State Park, south of town.
Upon arrival, I explained to the person dressed like a forest ranger that I was looking for Old Baldy. She let me know that the path leading to it was closed and I would need to take another one that was roughly parallel.
I later stumbled on this site which randomly features a panoramic view of the cluttered little office — not something I would consider camera worthy.
The park sits where Onion and Williamson creeks come together.
Part of the El Camino Real de los Tejas National Historic Trail, which runs from Mexico City to the border of Louisiana, it was a major thoroughfare during the Spanish colonial era of the 18th century.
Meandering around on the white gravel roads, I tried to get my bearings using the map the park ranger had given me. There is always uncertainty trying to locate these trees. Will it be obvious? Will I easily find it right away? Will I get lost? For how long?
A few minutes of getting lost and finding your way is a worthwhile exercise. The idea of being lost alone for an hour or more is unsettling.
After parking, I set off on foot, not sure if this was a good starting point. First person I saw — Is this was the right trail to find the tree? He had no idea, but pointed me toward a YOU ARE HERE map.
Proceeding with trepidation I thought about another time I hiked in Austin and got lost with my girlfriends. Alone, I felt less comfortable than I had that day. Continuing, I again double-checked with the next couple I saw.
“Is this the Rock Shelter trail?” (This pretty trail leads to a natural limestone overhang used by native Americans — I’ve only seen it in photos).
“No, that trail is closed.” Same as the ranger said. I told them I was trying to find the big tree. “So are we!”
We decided to walk together.
“So…,” the guy asked me, “Why are you looking for Old Baldy?”
“Um well.” I hesitated. “I'm uh, kinda toying with a writing project… based on an old book.”
“What book?”
“It's uh, called the Famous Trees of Texas,” I answered.
“I have that book in my truck!”
“Seriously?!”
I was completely dumbfounded.
He said he'd been seeking out the trees for about three years and had visited all the ones to the west.
What?! Wow. Another person doing this.
DOING it.
Not THINKING about it. Not toying with the idea!
HALF DONE with his exploration. Actually TAKING ACTION on this idea that I’ve been overthinking.
For himself. Just for fun.
He had leaped over fences and spoken to land owners, collecting leaf, twig and acorn samples and taking polaroid pictures of the trees at the same angle as the photos in the book.
We stood there marveling at this coincidence for a bit before walking down to a little bridge crossing the mostly dry creek where Old Baldy's roots are growing — a perfect vantage point just a few feet above the roots.
Although I've gained a new appreciation for the tough live oaks, it’s exciting to see a different genus; Old Baldy is one of only three Bald Cypress (Taxodium distichum) on my list. 51 of the 72 living Famous Trees are live oaks — 33 Quercus virginiana and 21 Quercus fusiformis, (difficult to tell apart).
Gazing up at the ragged columnar trunk leading to the leaf canopy, we conversed. Noska is a talented tattoo artist in Austin. Doris Ann, of whom I unfortunately failed to get a good photo, studied forestry and retained her interest in trees. It sounded like she had joined him on more than one visit and I believe it was the San Saba Mother Pecan that she named as her favorite. She brought up a book I've been meaning to find, a memoir about a woman and the trees of Canada called Mnemonic.
She told me, “You'll learn things from this [project] and it might take you in directions you never expected.”
I believe it just did.
I’ll admit I felt of twinge of unoriginality learning that someone else had the same idea, as I’m just scratching the surface of this project. Talking with them, my insecurities faded and I found myself deeply inspired by the quiet way that Noska had been making progress... just because.
Totally analog
We walked back to the parking area and I got a look at his well-loved 3rd edition Famous Trees of Texas, with his system of marking on the map trees he’s visited and ones that were dead. He didn't even know about the website, preferring to use only the brief italicized location info at the bottom of each entry. The little polaroids were glued directly into the book. Some had scavenged leaves and twigs pressed between the pages.
What a crazy coincidence that he and I happened to show up there on the very same day!
The weird thing was that my 1st edition copy didn't include this tree. If it hadn't been for the website, I would have known nothing about it. I’m still not sure how he learned about it. My initial guess was that his 3rd edition book included it, but it’s not in there either. Perhaps the 2015??? or how else would he have known???
I debated going back to Austin to see the cemetery where the Governor Hogg Pecan had been before it died, or possibly heading a bit further south to find two trees in Kyle, Texas.
“Go to Kyle,” he told me decisively. He had already seen them.
We exchanged info, said goodbye and I walked back to my car. As they passed me in his truck, I held my Famous Trees of Texas out the window, silently thanking Old Baldy for getting me out the door that morning.
This 12 minute video from Texas Parks and Wildlife features beautiful shots of Old Baldy along with a few other famous specimens within the Texas state park system.
Kyle Hanging Tree
A silhouette of a tree with a shady past hiding in broad daylight.
This tree’s entry in Famous Trees of Texas is short and vague.
Sometime in the late 1840s, cowboys discovered a man hanging from a tree and buried him there, knowing nothing about who he was or why he was hanged.
This barely acknowledged event took place about a quarter mile from the (now historic, still standing log cabin*) home of Colonel Claiborne Kyle. It goes on to say that the Colonel donated 15 acres that became this cemetery, where pioneers and war veterans are buried.
The absence of information is unsettling.
Figuring I would first find the more remote of two trees in Kyle, Texas, then head back toward civilization, I drove to the cemetery. In contrast to another burial ground I explored finding the Turner Oak, this one is less cultivated than the urban, manicured vibe of Greenwood.
A clear indicator was lacking for The Hanging Tree, which was supposedly 200 feet from the entrance. Driving down the gravel road, I hopped out to investigate when I spotted an official historical marker.
Over on the edge of the main cemetery, behind a fence were old, crude and disintegrating grave stones, many of which were hand-carved and not so sturdy to begin with. The 2015 marker explained that this was the burial ground for the slaves of Claiborne Kyle, who numbered up to 29, according to an 1850 slave census.
One of them, Samuel, was possibly his son with, I guess, not his wife, Kitty Kyle, also believed to be buried there.
The deteriorating stones were in a lovely grove of junipers and smaller live oaks, that may have taken over the area when another cemetery was established nearby for the African American community.
I could see where their trunks had been limbed up, likely in the 1990s restoration mentioned on the marker, implying that the whole area had been overgrown and forgotten for a time.
Though this was intriguing, I felt a nagging tension of not yet completing my mission. Plus, it was hot as hell, especially for October, so exploring was less appealing.
Three robust live oaks near the entrance threw me off.
In the 90 degree heat, I ventured on foot to inspect these big specimens, which had the historic look, though I had a feeling they were not the one. Back toward the graveyard entrance was another marker, which pointed out that, though records listed Kyle’s adopted son, Willie Parks as the first one buried here in 1849, “local tradition” claims that the un-named man hanging from the tree was the first. A correction was also expressed on this 1992 marker: only 5 acres were donated by Claiborne Kyle.
Sweaty and befuddled, I squinted around, knowing the tree was somewhere in the vicinity.
Where?
The warm weather was not energizing. Trudging slowly back toward my car, I finally noticed a scraggly tree with an odd horizontal branch and recognized that what I’d been searching for was RIGHT THERE between the big live oaks and the slave cemetery.
Unlike many of the trees I've seen so far, with cascading branches creating an umbrella you can walk underneath, the sparse nature of this one created the effect of a silhouette, particularly in the bright, mid-day light.
It looks as though it is in serious decline. I imagine the healthier specimens that confused me will hold up much better.
Interesting to think about how we revere the dead, and by default, the cemetery ends up being a protected space for plants as well.
Good photography takes patience and attention to light patterns, among numerous other factors. For this project, I made the decision that the best camera is the “one in your hand,” as they say, which would be my iPhone. Documenting my journey, I have never once planned to arrive early morning or at sunset, when light could enhance the images. In fact, planning is not my thing. I prefer spontaneity and I roll with current conditions whenever I show up. Then again, it might be something to consider moving forward.
Harsh mid-day lighting is not flattering.
Almost every day when she exited our common workspace, one of my friends used to say, in her cute, rather high pitched voice, “OK, I’m gonna make like a tree.” I snapped a few more pix, then made like a banana and split to find the Kyle Auction Oak.
*I would have tried to locate the nearby cabin, but I did not learn about it until after I was home
The Hanging Tree is located in the Kyle City Cemetery. A historical marker is at the top of the main cemetery drive and the tree is located about 200 feet to the right of the entrance. A marker "Kyle Hanging Tree" has been installed at the base of tree beside the headstone of Wm. Melton.
29°57'44.6"N 97°53'52.4"W
Kyle Auction Oak
Even after seeing so many trees in a matter of days, I still felt a sense of awe standing next to such a massive living thing.
Similar to the Auction Oaks I saw the day before, this tree provided shade for the first property auction in Kyle, when the town began, roughly 40 years after Austin.
The railroad needed a station town between Austin and San Antonio and Captain Ferguson Kyle (son of Colonel Claiborne Kyle, who donated land for the Kyle Cemetery) put up enough cash to get the town named after him.
Leaving Kyle cemetery, I navigated back toward the center of the town. Having entered the street name for the oak into apple maps (don’t judge! This is before I discovered the Famous Trees of Texas website with Google coordinates), I turned the first corner onto Sledge street as directed. Siri (or whoever) announced aloud: ARRIVED.
I stared at a good sized live oak right there on the corner. Seeing no official marker, I figured it was another decoy and continued down the street spotting the famous tree just a bit down the road.
Sitting on the edge of a older residential lot near the street, this huge oak has two enormous trunks that go in separate directions, similar to the one at the Better Half, but in much better condition. The cement ring around the trunk, shown in the book photo has thankfully been removed.
How did they accomplish that without damaging the roots?
This monster of a tree looks like it would be fun to climb and lounge on the prostrate branches. Being on personal property, I did not feel comfortable clawing around on a historical monument, but I kind of wish I had.
Someone walked out of the house across the street while I was snapping photos and I wondered how often anyone ever stopped to see this tree.
All the time? Never?
Until I met Noska and Doris Ann at Old Baldy, I had never seen anyone else paying attention to the trees I've visited.
Even after seeing so many trees in a matter of days, I still felt a sense of awe standing next to such a massive living thing.
My place in the universe seems clear when gazing up at an amazing old plant that has grown for so many decades, silently watching as things change.
The tree and historical marker are in front of 204 S. Sledge Street, in Kyle.
29°59'16.6"N 97°52'46.9"W
Treaty Oak
The tree that refused to die at the hands of a crazy person, plus another live oak at an Austin bar.
I gotta say, Famous Trees of Texas doesn't have a lot of juicy material. Written in a dry style, like the history textbooks I vaguely remember from 7th grade, even the shortest entries make my eyelids droop.
So when I read about the poisoning incident involving this tree, I was intrigued.
My first edition book (1970) doesn't include this part of the story, which happened in the late 80s, but this tidbit sort of set the stage:
“One of the many legends associated with this tree speaks of Indian maidens who brewed a “love tea” of its tender leaves. If they drank the tea while gazing at a full moon, their lovers would be true forever.”
I guess the maidens just drank this tea on their own, hoping for the best? Whew. I’ve been there.
Anyway, the legend claims the tea also comes in handy if you have an upcoming battle.
So in 1989, this guy, described as troubled and unstable, with a string of arrests, perhaps decided that the legend had failed him. He freaks out over his methadone clinic counselor, to whom his love was apparently unrequited.
Clearly not ok, he somehow obtains gallons of an herbicide called Velpar, made by DuPont.
He proceeds to DUMP it in a circle around the tree with attempt to kill it.
Fuck you, Tree! You ruined my relationship!
I mean, what went through this guy's mind??? Had he actually tried the tender leaf tea thing… or?
A city forester noticed there was a ring of dead grass at the base of the tree and some curled leaves as well.
Hoping it was nothing serious, he ran tests that revealed a severe chemical overdose, enough to kill many trees.
Once this news got out, Austin went full-on hippie over that tree, bringing crystals, cards, poetry and chicken soup to the site in the hopes of saving it. A Dallas psychic came down to hold an “transference of energy” ceremony.
Experts removed several inches of soil and erected a sprinkler system to cool the tree in summer as its leaves dropped. Ross Perot reportedly paid for the effort saying "just send me the bill.” DuPont also threw in some cash as a reward.
Mr. unstable was Paul Stedman Cullen, who told his friend about his ruthless act.
She took the information to authorities who arrested him. During his trial, which received a lot of press, it came out that he collected books about the occult. He spread the herbicide in the shape of a moon, believed to be some kind of ritual to bring harm to his beloved. Another odd detail: he harbored frustration that he had been forced to plant trees during a previous incarceration.
He ended up serving three years of a nine year sentence (that’s it???) and he died in 2001.
This link has video footage of the city forester, the suspect and even Barbara Walters reporting on the incident.
I guess all the love and attention worked.
When we pulled up to the Treaty Oak, it looked healthy despite some large wounds.
A random guy with a crocodile dundee leather hat, vest and a shopping cart full of crap seemed to be just waiting for someone to walk up. As soon as we started reading the marker, he spoke rather loudly to us:
Y'all want to know about the tree?
(Kinda just wanted to experience it, thanks).
We didn't answer and started walking around to the other side of the massive tree canopy.
I can tell you things you WON'T FIND on the INTERNET.
He was almost shouting.
SOME THAT SAY THIS TREE IS OVER 900 YEARS OLD!!!
Definitely shouting there.
We kept walking and he indignantly gave up, pushing his cart away down the sidewalk as though we were complete idiots who just couldn't take the real shit he was laying down.
By far the most majestic of the trees we had seen that day
with a gnarled branching structure creating a deep, dappled shade, this oak completely lived up to the hype. It was surrounded by metal stakes with a chain barrier and a sign reading NO UNAUTHORIZED PRUNING.
We definitely came without tools or plans to prune, and there was no mention of sensitive roots, so we slipped under the chain to get close to the trunk. We marveled at the large wounds. Were they part of the 1989 damage, or had other difficult times proceeded that incident?
Once again this single oak seemed wise with resilience, experience and age.
We wondered: How could anyone harm such an astounding specimen? How could this gigantic old tree affect your love life?
Snapping a few more tree hugging photos like good little instagramers, we decided it was about time to cool off. We realized we might as well pay to hold our parking spot and walked over to a nearby establishment called Better Half Coffee & Cocktails.
Sitting down at the bar, we noticed quite a large tree (!) in the outdoor seating area.
Deeply appreciating the blessed air-conditioning at that particular moment, we sat inside for a spell enjoying a glass of sauvignon blanc before going back out to see.
This large, but slowly disintegrating live oak was supported on all sides with a rusty steel square structure, presumably to keep the whole thing from splitting open. There was a gaping space large enough to stand in, where two big trunks grew in two separate directions and the middle part had likely rotted away.
One staff member walked by and told us it was the oldest oak in North Central Texas? I haven’t verified that, but whether or not it’s the case, we appreciated the lovely bit of closure this created for our day.
Wearing my summer tree visiting shirt - the same one I wore to visit the Fort Worth trees. 😱 Photo by Rachel McCall
Random Bonus!
This country band is called Treaty Oak Revival
Auction Oaks
Musing on nature while checking out trees surrounded by the city.
Leaving the Battle Oaks, we weren't far from the next group of trees, as the crow flies. But the notorious Austin traffic, along with whatever sporting event had the streets filled with Longhorn fans, made the trek a bit slow. Grateful that my Austinite friend was willing to drive, I navigated from the website instructions.
The beginning of the Austin we now take for granted began under the shelter of these oaks. In 1839, a grid of the first city blocks were sold in their shade, the importance of which was obvious on this humid, 92 degree October day.
“Americans treat nature like Victorians treated women: as virgins or whores.”
Sweating under the branches, I was reminded of this quote I heard from landscape designer Thomas Rainer, when I saw him speak in Nacogdoches. He hilariously dubbed Martha Schwartz “the Howard Stern of landscape design.”
In other words, we have great reverence for special places and treat ordinary areas like trash. This site felt like a mixture of both. A mostly ignored shrine to progress — a fraction of what was once wild open space— now surrounded by high rise buildings.
The largest of three impressive trees is roped protectively at the base, with signs requesting we stay off the sensitive roots. The other oaks have a circular deck structure over and around the trunks, forming a seating area to which we didn't get close, since more than a couple of homeless folks had set up camp there.
Rainer continues:
“For us, if nature (OUT THERE) is not some pristine wilderness, then it’s not nature. To focus exclusively on the preserving the last of our “virgin” or “old growth” woods is to lose site of the larger issue right under our noses: the spaces that surround us every day.”
As I have gushed before, Mr. Rainer's writing remains a monumental inspiration to me and I highly recommend delving into his extensive blog and the book he co-authored with Claudia West, Planting in a Post Wild World.
Modern signage recounts the story of the Auction Oaks' significance. Since we had decided to flaunt a parking meter, we didn't spend much time reading and continued on with our journey.
We saw three other groups of trees in Austin that day:
Seiders Oaks
Battle Oaks
Treaty Oak
Battle Oaks
The second group of live oaks I located in Austin were saved from the ax.
Instead of a physical battle with bows, arrows and guns, which gave the not far away Seiders Oaks their notoriety, the Battle Oaks were engaged in a struggle of Man vs. Nature, which, when nature wins, is many times best for man anyway, as it turns out.
Along with seven others listed under a category that the Famous Trees of Texas website entitled "Saved From the Axe." (Don't ask me why the additional *e* on the end???), these trees had advocates who fought for their lives.
Why the quotation marks around “forty acres?”
This group of three live oaks are a small remnant of a larger grove of trees destroyed during the civil war, present on the original 40 acres of the University of Texas when it opened in 1883. They were fixin' (as we say in Texas) to be taken down to build a new biological lab building on the northwest corner of campus.
Students and faculty protested to the man in charge, who preserved them in 1923 by getting the building plan to move down the block. The trees weren't named for the fact that they became embattled, but for the chair of the Faculty Building Committee, Dr. William Battle, to whom folks brought their concerns.
Famous Trees of Texas mentions that he was persuaded specifically by a (jocular?) threat from UT law professor Judge Robert Batts, who promised to “come down to Austin with a shotgun” if need be, which was apparently convincing. This is one of several instances where the FToT uses a tone of pride for the shoot 'em up, tough guy mentality so well associated with the Lone Star State. However, it's rare that one encounters this attitude in connection with saving trees.
Another beautiful grouping of Quercus virginiana, these oak's dark colored bark and long twisting branches form drooping canopies full of ball moss (Tillandsia recurvata). The open space where they reside provides a welcoming entry point to the campus, easily located just a block from Guadalupe Street, which was packed with burnt orange clad pedestrians heading toward the stadium.
The area features a large statue of Barbara Jordan, the first African American elected to the Texas Senate, the first Southern Black woman elected to the U.S. House of Representatives and the first African-American woman to be buried in the Texas State Cemetery.
Her keynote at the Democratic National Convention in 1976 can be heard on the It Was Said podcast.
Her speech is embossed into large granite slabs. I noted this quote from the extensive text:
“I’ve always felt that as long as you are alive, you should be doing something that makes a difference. You don’t have to do big, gigantic things, just do things incrementally that make a difference. ”
Sweltering in the heat with my long time friend, taking photos and admiring the neighboring plantings, we talked about accepting help in adulthood, which is sometimes painfully necessary in times of transition… About how to let go of thinking we are always supposed to do it all alone and how to pay it forward once we're back on our feet. Being around the wise old trees, making progress on my goal and having a little adventure got my mental juices flowing about what we are supposed to be doing with our lives, how to improve, and how to be ok with what is.
We saw three other groups of trees in Austin that day:
Seiders Oaks
Auction Oaks
Treaty Oak
Seiders Oaks
My visit to see trees in Austin begins in a small urban park.
Skimming an article about the writing process, I made a screen shot of the following quote:
“Self doubt can be an ally. This is because it serves as an indicator of aspiration. It reflects love, love of something we dream of doing, and desire, desire to do it. If you find yourself asking yourself and your friends: “Am I really a writer? Am I really an artist?” chances are you are.””
What are the chances that my friend in Austin had this paperback and gifted it to me?
After pushing myself (along with a bundle of self doubt) out to Fort Worth to find the Turner Oak and Traders Oaks, I felt ready to tackle the task of finding another group from the Famous Trees of Texas. Because Austin has a cluster of trees and I have friends in the area, it was the obvious next stop on my adventure.
By this time, I had found the Famous Trees of Texas website, which revealed one of the mysteries I initially imagined discovering one at a time: which trees are still alive? The somewhat dated looking site has the full list of the original trees in the 1st edition with little tombstone icons beside all of the trees that are dead, plus all of the trees that have been designated "famous" in the subsequent editions.
You can look up trees by name, species, historical period or topic. There is also a Texas county map, which you can click and find trees by location, which I used to make my working list for Austin.
My dear friend Rachel, who joined me on my 2015 trek to Peckerwood Gardens, was available to help me locate trees. We met for lunch at the oldest of the small Austin chain called Kerby Lane, since it was near one of the first stops. There's something about having an accomplice along which helps me let go of the exhausting questions that spiral in my mind…
Why am I doing this?
Who wants to read about old trees?
Am I a writer?
Shouldn't I have more expertise in trees to do something like this?
The Seider's Oaks are in a park named after them that is as pleasant as the book promises. Walking the paved paths to the center of the small green space, we easily located the group of four oaks. The book photo depicts a wilder looking space. This is most definitely an urban park, so it's easy to see that a lot has changed in almost 50 years.
A number of these trees represent the beginnings of civilization as we know it, but this came at a cost to those already here living off the land.
Gideon White was one of the first settlers to move his family to the area that became Austin just after construction of the capital city began. A nearby spring on Shoal Creek seemed a good spot to build a log cabin, but a few years later he was attacked and killed by Indians. The historical marker calls it a massacre. The book claims that the marks of a number of arrows and bullets which hit the one of the trees were visible for many years.
Though familiar from general culture, was my first encounter with the obvious bias presented in this book that I thought was just about trees. Discomfort arose from my complete lack of understanding of history, one sided or otherwise.
At least one of his daughters, Louisa Marie, survived and later married Edward Seiders, who ran a grocery and livery business. As Austin grew, they remained among its residents and by the 1870s, Seiders Springs, as it became known, was a recreation spot with bath houses and a dance pavilion.
The trees created lovely shadows all around. One leans over so far as to be nearly horizontal, with some weedy brush growing through what would be the upper canopy sprawled on the ground. Loads of little air plant bundles clung to the limbs, something I rarely see around the Dallas area. They are the epiphytic Tillandsia recurvata, commonly called ball moss.
Without trying, I got a decent shot of the middle tree at a similar angle to the photo in the book, which provides a satisfying puzzle-fit kind of feeling when you see the two images side by side.
There is no denying the power of shade on a hot day in Texas. By late October, you might expect cooler weather, but in these parts, it's not all that unusual to hit 90 degrees, which it did that day. After surviving intense high temperatures the entire summer, the day felt more or less tolerable. We only saw one or two others walking the park and the whole area was quiet and peaceful. As the first stop in a day of tree visits, I was uncertain how long each one might take to locate, so we took our obligatory tree hugger pix and set out to find the Battle Oaks.
Turner Oak
Stumbling around a cemetery in the September heat trying to find my first official Famous Tree.
This was my first time to locate one on my own.
The Famous Trees of Texas book said the Turner Oak was about 200 yards from the main entrance of the Greenwood Cemetery, which turned out to be quite obvious.
Before I could get there, I stopped spotting two big oaks on the corner of the grounds in a strip of earth near parking for church-like building.
When I'm searching for a specific tree, I’ve noticed there are often nearby trees that throw me off at first. I began calling these: decoys.
Jumping out to take photos of these lovely decoys, I discovered that Greenwood Cemetery is loaded with big ol’ live oaks planted in an imperfect grid pattern amongst the tombstones.
Still not realizing that I came in the "wrong" entrance, I wandered a while on foot sweltering in 97 degree September heat, trying to discern if one or the other tree was larger, or how many yards from the entrance this particular one might be.
Is it this one?
Hmmm… maybe this one??
Clearly, my sense of distance is vague. I had no idea if there would be a marker of some kind? or if the right tree was even alive???
I walked out toward one that had a faux bois cement trash can at the trunk base, made to look like a tree stump. Viewing this from my vehicle, I thought might be a marker of some kind???
Nope.
Reminded me of tombstones out west in Colorado City, TX (where my grandparents are all buried) shaped like pine and cedar trunks.
After appreciating some impressive specimens up close, I drove around the cemetery roads, noting anything with possible significance.
I felt pretty stupid when I finally spotted the huge circular median that surrounds the well-marked Turner Oak,
especially when I saw the triumphant four horse equestrian sculpture that clearly delineates the main entrance nearby.
Ok, yeah, that's probably about 200 yards.
One of the first settlers in Tarrant County, Charles Turner helped found the city of Fort Worth. He wisely buried a stash of gold under this tree, to avoid exchanging it for Confederate notes, as per the directive when Texas seceded from the union.
When he settled on this land 168 years ago, it must have been large enough to serve as an unmistakable landmark, because he eventually returned, dug up the gold and used it to "restore prosperity to the town he helped found."
When I reported the trek to my sister, she asked if I had scratched around at all to see if any gold was left. Dang.
A sizable chunk of cement rested in an older branch scar of this historic exemplar, an outdated practice no longer recommended. Blanketing the median with water-loving St. Augustine turf was questionable, not to mention the strips of summer annuals a few feet away from the trunk. The rest of the boneyard was thriving without supplemental water.
A distinct figurine visible in the photo background, holds up her hands (in sorrow? worship?? ecstasy??? Who knows??? Her toga is falling off, a jug of coins dumps out at her feet, so there is a lot going on).
Searching the decoys, I scanned for this identifier and happily it remains in good condition, expressively marking the Wallenberg gravesite. On one side of the pedestal, I recognized the opening lines of Psalm 121, one of a few my mother pressured my sister and I to memorize as children…
“LIFT UP THINE EYES UNTO THE HILLS FROM WHENCE COMETH THY STRENGTH”
It was not at all pleasant to be outside this hot day, so I went back to the car to make an attempt at drawing, using a style I learned in my first art class in high school.
Contour drawings are an exercise in looking and seeing. Done with one continuous line, your eyes stay constantly on the subject, not looking at your paper. There is plenty of opportunity for them to come out looking like a drunken scrawl, which is pretty much what happened. The point of the technique is to force yourself to keep your eyes on your subject, not your drawing.
I can’t believe I’m showing this pitiful drawing
Even just an outline of an extremely complicated subject, such as a live oak would take quite a bit more patience than I had that sweltering afternoon. I gave up and went to find the Traders Oak.
This was my first official tree from the Famous Trees of Texas book.
If you really want to know how I got started, (I know you do) the Presbyterian Oaks were my first attempt at hunting and writing about trees.
Traders Oak
At that point, I was concerned that I might arrive and find that this oak was gone.
At that point, I was concerned that I might arrive and find that this oak was gone.
In an industrial section north of downtown Fort Worth, not far from the Tarrant County Jail, there are windowless buildings, a creepy, abandoned(?) mobile home and apartments near a downcycled plastic playground in the tiny Trader Oaks Park.
Leaving the lovely Greenwood Cemetery after locating the Turner Oak, I crossed train tracks and a part of the West Fork Trinity River heading toward the other famous oak in the area.
Being only the second tree I hunted down directly from the book, it was also before I had discovered the Famous Trees of Texas website, which confirmed that all of the trees have been accounted for, and which trees are still living.
Along with the official marker, there are several City of Fort Worth benches. I was comforted that it still has its historical designation, though it looks like an afterthought on the side of the park. Famous Trees of Texas said the park is 3 acres, but (keeping in mind my limited spatial grasp) I wonder if it might today be smaller?
Seeing an opportunity to serve soldiers at the recently established military fort the city is named for, as well as native americans that brought in furs, fruits and pecans, Henry Clay Daggett and Archibald Franklin Leonard opened one of the first trading posts under this oak in 1849 in what became Tarrant County.
Reportedly it was a favorite off-duty spot for the soldiers. Legendary Trees, which grows and sells seedlings from famous trees(!) claims that whiskey was occasionally available, which was likely a bigger draw than pecans.
This magnificent live oak, surviving without irrigation, appears quite robust with thick, low hanging branches stretching out to nearly touch the ground, much lower than the old book photo shows. The main trunk splits into two large leaders holding numerous smaller branches in a wide spread. This gives the tree a distinctive look of growth, age and wisdom. There is a large branch scar leaving a bit of a gap in the limbs on what I thought of as the back side, facing away from the playground.
Maybe because I have been hesitating, self doubting and building up the idea in my head for so long, it seemed like this moment should've somehow been more monumental.
How long, I wondered, can I (should I?) stand around admiring the organic shapes and reading the marker?
Not all that long, it turns out.
I chuckled to myself recalling that scene from the 80s movie 'Vacation' when Chevy Chase and Beverly D'Angelo see the Grand Canyon -- staring for less than 30 seconds, then ok, let's go!