Hub and I were looking at the stand of pine trees on the north side of our house, and remembering the day we planted them. In Indiana, anybody can get free tree seedlings from the State Nursery, and one day many years ago, we drove there and loaded up.

The pines were wispy little things, invisible when the sun was just right. For years, it was hard to tell a seedling tree from a tall weed. For years, I rode the riding mower around them. And then, one summer, I coudn’t.

Today, they tower over our property. Rabbits and quail live in the piney grove. It’s beautiful and I love it.

We do need to get out the chain saw and do some weeding. There are some lurker trees hanging about in there, and they musn’t be allowed to choke out the pines.

It’s a piney grove and nothing else. No interlopers allowed.

Pines and hardwoods together? Not in the grove. Elsewhere, sure.

I love trees. Evergreens, hardwoods, all of them. I even like the pesky catalpa trees that try to overrun us every year. The blossoms are beautiful and they smell wonderful. The long green worms in the summer, not so much. Fishermen come to the door and ask for the worms, though. Apparently, the fish love them.

So sure, mix those trees. Except in the piney grove.

As one of my students wrote last semester, “I do, like God himself, love all kinds of trees, both hardwood and marsupial.”

I really don’t think a person can be a good teacher without a finely-honed sense of humor. And I know that God has one; just look at all the hardwoods and marsupials out there.