Opinion and via Carol Guzy Updated July 8, 2024
Editor’s note: Carol Guzy is a freelance photojournalist. In the past she was a photographer for the Washington Post and the Miami Herald and won the Pulitzer Prize four times. The reviews expressed here are those of the author. Read more reviews on CNN.
Not long ago, the dawn of a spring day began with comfortable pastel hues embracing the beloved and iconic cherry tree affectionately named Stumpy at Tidal Basin in Washington, D. C. The good looks impressive. Magical and pictorial. Serenity is a comfort for the soul.
In recent years, Stumpy has a symbol of resilience, a miracle among us, making its small center bloom despite the fragility of its fragile trunk. He is a social media celebrity and a warning about climate change. It captured our imaginations, encouraged all of us who feel broken. Aren’t we all broken in one way or another? We can still thrive and move beyond adversity.
Just take a look at Stumpy, the little tree that maybe. In this turbulent time of our world, he made a promise. Something around which a fractured partisan country could simply coalesce.
At dawn on Easter Sunday, rays of light emanated from the Jefferson Memorial above Stumpy like the resurrection. It was profound and sacred. It was a lesson in how to slow down and embrace stillness. I am a press photographer. These are not words in my vocabulary.
Its final bloom is glorious. Fans paraded, most snapping a photo, some hugging the beloved tree as they bid a sad farewell as a renovation task began. About three hundred trees will be cut down as part of a levee reconstruction effort led by the National Park Service.
I spent 3 months photographing Stumpy. At the end of May, he shot.
Most people, myself included, called Stumpy “he,” others said “she,” but never “she. “People treated him with palpable respect; Some wrote love notes to the tree in protest of its removal. Others left memorial flowers at their base (and in one case, a bottle of Maker’s Mark). There’s even a Stumpy mascot in the Cherry Blossom 5K race.
From those who visited me I heard many things. People saw him as an “outsider,” a “symbol of hope,” a “metaphor for our democracy. “A little woman asked, “Mom, why are you killing him?”
One girl commented, “They try to destroy us when we grow up. “
Psychologist Evelyn Sawhill made an origami crane and slid it into Stumpy’s scaly cortex, whispering, “Don’t be afraid. “A slight sadness was drawn on his face.
She with me on existential questions: do trees have emotions?Do you have a soul that is moving forward somewhere in this wonderful mystery called life?
Evelyn believes that Stumpy felt all the love that poured into him and the determination of those of us who endured until the end so that he was not alone. “It is important to provide recognition, comfort, tranquility and understanding to each and every living being. The other people who came here to do this for Stumpy benefited more than we thought. … And it’s an honor, it is,” he said.
The poet Khalil Gibran wrote: “Trees are poems that the earth writes in the sky. “
I have been a strong advocate for trees since I was a child. Shy and lonely, I went to the forest, my space, and talked to the trees; they were my friends. So it wasn’t hard to get emotionally attached to the Stumpers. .
As a photojournalist, I have spent too many decades documenting man’s inhumanity. Conflicts and injustices abound. We destroy others and the earth. For me, photographing the beautiful splendor of nature evoked so much happiness. Until it stopped being like that.
Through the plans I made a great report about Stumpy, an ode to a tree. Then they made me angry.
Stumpy’s fate was dictated without regard to the passionate pulse of the people. Citizens overwhelmingly expressed their preference to “save Stumpy” as a national treasure. There have been requests. Many consider it advisable to give it at least a chance by transplanting it. “Try it,” we said.
NPS spokesman Mike Litterst told local media that Stumpy is in a “mortality spiral” and will most likely die from “transplant shock. “But human predictions can be fallible. The will to live is a hard force. Stumpy had defied all odds for years. Although the chance of the tree surviving the movement is slim, the only thing certain is that cutting it down would leave it one hundred percent dead.
Soon the petals fell like snow, as if the trees were mourning their last season. The last few days have been bittersweet and moving. A rainbow gave the impression that nature itself was saying goodbye to Stumpy. A flock of goslings huddles at the base of his trunk, seeming to offer him comfort. He gave us chills.
Serenity gave way to the sounds of chainsaws and tree branches breaking. Sawdust floated in the water of the flowers.
Compounding the pain, the NPS began eliminating nesting season, putting the birds and their young children at risk. Anne Lewis, president of City WildLife, Inc. , told me that there were no protective measures such as ramps. If they fail to reach the mainland within a few hours, young children will be drowned and drowned.
Avian biologists have tagged trees that contain nests. At one point, observers and I thanked them for tying an orange ribbon as a marker, as we had been overjoyed to see a starling diligently feeding its young. But no one told us that they were considered invasive species and that they would not be saved. The structural team that was responsible for the removal proceeded cautiously, acting with respect for wildlife and residents.
I watched as the team discovered a starling nest in a freshly cut log, but the staff carefully set the nest aside, appearing to be merciful. Some other people are writing to lawmakers in an attempt to enact a law to delay structural projects for breeding birds in the future.
There is also some other alternative. I contacted the Smithsonian to ask about keeping Stumpy there and told them that they had already consulted the NPS and were rejected. This is short-sighted. At least cuttings will be propagated in the Arboretum, but there will never be another Stumpy.
Today, there are NPS painters who are empathetic and really need to protect those valuable spaces. But this story has a much greater importance than the fate of a small tree. It’s about our ability to care for and nurture rather than destroy so much in our path. . It’s about honoring the spiritual interconnectedness of all life. When good looks are erased, it is an affront to the soul. And yes, many have found this hollow, warped trunk that holds some branches like an exquisite work of art.
During Stumpy’s last dawn, the birds gathered en masse near the remote cage. Maybe we just think they are saying goodbye to him. Nature has a complex language that humans have long forgotten.
Under a veil of secrecy and surrounded by a black lattice fence, under an intense midday sun and amid the slaughter of other felled trees, Stumpy experienced his disappearance. It was so small that it only took a few minutes.
Those of us fighting for Stumpy would likely forget about this and that we can’t fight City Hall, or take a stand to avoid long-term damage. This government organization deserves to work for us, not oppose us. We can hold NPS accountable, but unfortunately, we can’t make them care.
In “The Wizard of Oz,” Dorothy said, “There’s no place like a house. “National parks are part of our collective home that must be cared for and protected. No one questions the need to renovate the levee, only the decisions made through the NPS on how it is done. However, many people questioned Stumpy’s fate dictated through the NPS, regardless of the will of the people. Perhaps American citizens deserve more compassionate stewardship of our lands, trees, and wildlife for those who, in that case, I do in fact love them.
Stumpy is gone. I cried thinking about the thousands of nice things I said to my mother, who had Alzheimer’s, before she slipped away last night. A hike advisor stopped to comfort me, perhaps the most beautiful legacy of this beloved tree, bringing strangers together.
There is now an empty area in the water where the good looking once lived. Maybe the origami crane helped him fly. One can believe that Stump is somewhere above this rainbow, giant and majestic with everlasting flowers.
We will miss you, little darling. You were loved.