Catalpas

“It’s a great name isn’t it?” I told him.

“What?” he asked.

“Catalpa.”

“Are those the one’s with the gray underside of the leaves that flutter when it’s windy?” he asked.

“You’re probably thinking of Cottonwoods and Poplars,” I said. “Cottonwoods grow along both rivers. There were beautiful Poplars outside the theater building at Sac State. I loved to watch their shadows on the wall in winter when the leaves were gone.”

“Where are Catalpas?” he asked.

“They’re scattered around,” I said. “There’s one at the theater in William Land Park. If you’re sitting in the back look over to the right toward the beautiful garden. It’s on the other side of the pine tree. You can tell by their big heart shaped leaves and the long pods that get hard and brown in Autumn. In Spring they have white bell shaped flowers, but the flowers only last a month. You can easily miss them. You can’t miss the leaves or pods though, the way they hang and droop. Their hanging and droopiness fit our hot summer days.”

So that’s why you like the name,” he said.

“Yes,” I replied. “It’s lazy and lingering like the leaves and pods and our summers. They droop closer to the ground than most trees. I like to walk under the tree brushing the leaves away to lie in the shade.”

“How come there aren’t more of them?” he asked.

“Well, they don’t grow tall,” I said. “Another reason is their long pods. I guess people felt the pods are a nuisance when they fall on the ground.”

“But people planted a lot of those trees with rough round balls that fall all over the place,” he said. “I lose my balance when I step on them. They’re not the best thing for my lawn mower either.”

“You’re thinking of Liquidamber,” I said. “People planted them because they grow so tall. Sycamores have balls too. They break a lot of times when people step on them. If Catalpas grew tall, we would have a lot more of them on the street and around public buildings. They are good for yards because they shade the house without people worrying about huge limbs or a giant trunk falling on the roof or a neighbor’s roof.

“They aren’t stately like Elms or Sycamores. Between the need for huge trees in the days before air-conditioning and our image of being strong and refined like our Midwest and East Coast background, Catalpas didn’t dominate.

“Their leaves are sensuous and erotic. If we plant Catalpas like old timers planted Elms, our city will have a different feel to it.

“I think of how relaxed I feel when I look at their leaves. Imagine how different we’d feel stepping outside to look at those big heart-shaped leaves waiting to be touched. They’d take the edge off of the stiffness of our houses and offices,” I said.

“Or maybe,” he replied, “when we looked at them we’d realize what kind of places we really have and how afraid we are to touch. Maybe we’d cut them down to plant Elms or Sycamores again.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “Maybe feeling stately is more important to people than touching a leaf to satisfy or intensify a curiosity or a passion.

“Catalpas are great for children. Kids love to touch. The leaves and pods are right there for little people to grab. The pods and leaves seem huge to me. They must seem even bigger and more fascinating to children.

“I love wallking through the park at night in Fall. It’s the first time in months that sprinklers are not on. When I’m looking at the ground I stop when I see a huge Catalpa leaf in the light from the street light. I pick it up like a little kid and place it to my face.”

“Then what do you do?” he asked.

“I hold it to my heart. Then I kiss it and let it go.”

“You really kiss it?”

“Once in a while,” I said. “Sometimes nature makes me reverent. Think how different we would feel about our city if trees made us feel reverence. We probably wouldn’t brag about being the City of Trees. We might have an unspoken law that crimes are not committed where trees are. Think if we could wander along the rivers and hang out in our parks without fear. If we were fearless to match our love of trees, we would feel as beautiful as they are. Wouldn’t it be great to feel that beautiful? If we were not afraid of each other and if we were not afraid of ourself, then our trees would be different to us.”

“We would move slower,” he said. “And the word Catalpa would sound even better.”

Copyright © 2025 by David Vaszko