I freely confess it: I am a big fan of trees. I’m not sure exactly why, but there is something about them that is deeply, intuitively appealing. Some deeply ingrained, inherited memory from our distant, arboreal past, perhaps?
And when I run across a truly great tree — like this one found at one corner of Schiller Park — I can’t help but stand in mute admiration, taking in the leafy canopy, the stout trunk, and particularly the powerful and graceful arc of one impossibly long limb stretching out to shade the grass beneath. It’s the kind of tree you could sit beneath on a warm summer’s day and happily study on a daydreamy afternoon.
Really, who doesn’t like trees?