Well, to me, my maple is delightful

One of the first things I did after moving from an apartment in Astoria, Queens to our house in New Hyde Park 29 years ago was to plant a Japanese maple tree right in the middle of our new backyard. I loved seeing it from the kitchen window, reminding me in a special way that this was my home.

While I was delighted with where my tree was planted, the rest of my family was not pleased with its prominent position in the yard.

To my husband, it was a hindrance to mowing the grass in uniform lines. He didn’t appreciate the value of interrupting “sameness” with a bit of the unexpected. The jagged stripes of grass circling the trunk provide a unique asymmetry and variety to an otherwise predictable green carpet. Dandelions with the good sense to grow in the shadow of the tree escape the mower’s hungry blades, adding a cheerful splash of yellow.

My children saw the tree as an impediment to the free flow of movement across the field. They would tell their friends exactly who to blame for this obstacle and “ruin the yard” as part of the opening ceremonies of every playdate. However, once they dispensed with those formalities, everyone had fun solving “the tree problem” while figuring out new ways to play old games.

Even my neighbor across the fence weighed in. Planting trees “willy-nilly” was what city people like us did first thing upon moving to the suburbs, he observed. His adversarial attitude was explained by his working on overhead cables among tangles of branches as a telephone company lineman, a job from which he happily retired to enjoy the flatlands of his own backyard.

While the squirrels preferred taller trees, and so largely ignored my lovely maple, I had an ally in the birds. They appreciated the Goldilocks vantage point it provided them — not too high, not too low. They were able to watch my dog, Piper, sun herself on the patio while they remained safe, ready to fly off at the first hint she might get up and head toward the grass.

I admit to having a sense of achievement, victory even, every time I look at my tree. I resisted calls to replant it along the fence line or remove it entirely, always standing firm on my vision of the yard. My tree is in the perfect spot, and I am well-rewarded for my advocacy. During the winter, the sun, low in the sky, shines through the icicles on its bare branches. In the spring, the lush leaves promise cooling shade for the summer months and hang on deep into the fall. It’s ever-changing, yet always comfortably familiar.

Over the years, my tree has grown taller and wider, its beautiful scarlet leaves bringing me joy every time I look out my kitchen window. Its new leaves continue to be my favorite sign of spring.

If you are looking for a small dose of happiness, find a tree to fall in love with. It can be in a park, on a sidewalk, in a yard, glimpsed from a car window on an errand — anywhere. Celebrate it, share it, and defend it from those who may not yet have found a tree of their own.

Reader Lisa Castillo lives in New Hyde Park.