Isn’t it funny how you never know what you don’t know until you know that you didn’t know it? I know that seems like gibberish, but hear me out. I absolutely love trees, as you are probably well aware if you read any of my previous posts. Little wee lad Michael dreamt of having a house with giant old growth trees in the yard. I didn’t even care what the actual house looked like, I just wanted giant, ancient trees sprinkled all across the landscape.

That fantasy heavily influenced my decision to buy a disturbingly dilapidated 100 year old home when we moved to Missouri. But in my defense, it is littered with beautiful trees, and chief among them are two exceptional examples: a gnarled Bur Oak complete with fuzzy-capped acorns, and a colossal Soft Maple, dwarfing everything in sight. I eventually remodeled the home (it was not fun, in any sense) and now my family can grow and thrive here. Those absolutely beautiful, giant trees make the shade that my children can laugh under.

What young Michael had no idea about, and even adult Michael couldn’t imagine is that Maple trees are INCREDIBLY PROLIFIC. I have maple sprouts literally everywhere every spring. Gutter? Sprouts. Window casings? Sprouts. Wheels of my car? Sprouts. On the actual roofing of my shed? You guessed it, sprouts. That absolutely beautiful behemoth of a Maple is a plague factory of tiny trees. They litter my hard-earned lawn, they slowly pry apart my driveway with their tiny, magnificently strong resolve. Their unrelenting advance haunts my dreams.

This is a photograph of a maple sapling before it has had the opportunity to develop any green chlorophyll to blanket its reddish anthocyanins. I know that they make me crazy, but I can’t help but admire their success as an organism.

And aren’t they beautiful?