When I visit Griffith Park, I like to sit under a tree and look up at the sky through her branches. I am reminded of the roots beneath me that spread deep into the earth. The tree’s shade protects and nurtures me. The leaves move in the wind and sway together. I am grateful for the calming sway, the strong trunk, and the deep roots of trees. They are alive, moving, and communicative. —Christy
One of my fondest childhood memories is spending each summer climbing my cousin’s blackberry tree with my sister. As a short tomboy, I was often teased for my height and scolded for my unladylike behavior, but these qualities made me the best berry hunter >: ) —undeterred by unsteady branches, bugs, and scrapes. Each time, the adults would yell at us to come down, bemoaning our recklessness. But when we presented our hauls, the berries were begrudgingly washed, served and enjoyed with the whole family. It’s a little silly to say, but that tree made me feel self-affirmed at a very young age, a gift I will always appreciate. I’ve been a proud black sheep of my family ever since X ) —Tara
My grandfather, J. Duncan Gleason, was a Southern California artist and illustrator. At some point in his career he was commissioned by the Glendale Library to illustrate a bookplate for them. He made a beautiful illustration of Casa Adobe San Rafael and its beautiful eucalyptus trees. —Robert, Rancho San Rafael
Having a meal under trees at the park reminds me of memories back home, where everybody used to get together and have a meal and fun under the trees. —Anjali
Trees are important, they give us air. My favorite trees are a tree from Palmer Park because I could climb it, and because it is skinny but strong. My second favorite tree is a tree from Maple Park because it looks like it fell down, but it didn’t. I could also climb it. My last favorite tree is near Maple Park. It is tall and looks like it will fall down. These are my favorite trees. Be careful not to harm them because they are important.
I can’t talk about one tree I’ve been to. For me, that would be impossible. I’ve visited many trees in my twelve year lifetime. And I hope to visit more. I remember one tree, it was in front of my Papa’s yard. My sister and I would always climb onto it and jump off, climb then jump, climb then jump. That’s how it always went. I also remember one tree I would see a lot of the time. Every time I looked I thought about its natural beauty and how it might feel to actually be a tree. I thought about all the wind pulling the branches and making it sway. It looks so graceful. I envy many things about trees. Starting from the shape of them to the wonderous things that they create. They are so beautiful in their own way, and every tree I’ve visited gives me exactly the same feeling as the last. A tingling sensation as if it was opening my soul in some way. I loved it, and every time I would feel it again.
The adults told me it was dying when I was an infant, but they were wrong. A giant gap had rotted out its base near the root, leaving a hole big enough for me to hide within. Every spring, new leaves grew from its body, and every year, the adults were surprised. I wasn’t. The tree and I had an understanding.
When my grandmother, who owned the house where the tree had grown, had her porch redone., we asked the mailman to leave her mail in a bucket inside the tree until a new mailbox could be installed. Every day I checked to see if the mailman or the elves from the nearby forest had left us anything. They seldom did.
Now someone else owns the house where the tree keeps growing, even now. I hope they have children. I hope they tell them that the tree is dying. I hope those children grow up knowing the truth. I hope they reach an understanding.
I walked passed this tree when I was a student in Glendale College. At first, I thought it freakish, scary even, as if it were to grab and pull me down into the dirt to suffocate me with its roots. I was too young then to appreciate its perfectly imperfect figure. What we often think of as a majestic tree is one with branches that stretch up and out, high and wide, away from human touch. I think this tree wants the opposite. It seems to be reaching for us, trying its best to say: "Take my hand, and I'll take yours. You can rest here if you want." As I pass by it now, some 30 years later, I see children sitting on its fingers, families picnicking next to its knuckles, couples leaning against its wrist. I imagine the tree to be happy as we all are when we feel the tenderness of fearless love. —Susan, Verdugo Woodlands
Stands a tree upon a hill
In a crowd of restless men
Stripped of every branch and leaf
Not to live again.
Stands a man upon that hill;
Sweat and blood were his reward,
The cracking of the whip,
The slashing of the sword…
So they stood there side by side
Just to let the whole world see
That this Man was more than man himself,
The Tree more than a tree…
A carpenter the day he lived,
He worked with wood in hand
The Tree a symbol of his work
A work greater than man…
So they stood there side by side
Just to let the whole world see
That this Man was more than man himself
The Tree more than a tree…
— “The Tree,” words and music by Doug Drobish
Back in 2012, when I was in third grade, I won 2nd place in the Glendale Unified District art contest. The prize was having the opportunity to plant a tree in my school. Looking back at this special moment in my life, being able to plant a tree and be awarded gave me the confidence I needed at the time. I remember feeling so happy and just in love with my tree. As the years pass by I feel such a strong connection to this tree. It’s as if it reflects my mood. The tree is such a great reminder of growth and the growth I’ve seen in myself these past ten years… That I am capable of more than I think : )
I remember when I was little I had a tree in front of my house. I used to climb it all the time. I always thought it was pretty cool to have my own tree that I can climb on and make different little stories with. I am now twelve and I can still climb the same tree. —Sophia
We recently started a landscaping overhaul, in part because we had to remove an absolutely enormous ash tree that was inundated by termites. When I say ENORMOUS I truly mean gigantic. It had a seven foot diameter and towered over the yard. Sad as it was to remove the tree, I’m excited to start new tree stories with my young kids. We’ve planted a sycamore with several more mature trees to follow. The progression of time will be interesting to watch with my kids and for me to see mirrored in their lives. —Jonathan
I remembered about our yard walnut tree. In late summer we enjoyed its fruits. My parents took care and put down humus with sand. My dad always said, you don’t sit under this tree. At the time we didn’t know, why? It was interesting when dad trimmed the dead leaves and additional branches. We helped and collected them and enjoyed. My mother, late summer, collected the fruits and put them in a sunny place for drying. We had memorable days with the walnut tree. It was awesome.
Why?! Seriously. What about the damage you’ve done? You thought it was all positive? What are y’all doing? The trees did nothing wrong to you. A passerby even mentioned it, while we watched y’all cut them down. Yeah, not all of us are happy. Death to trees?! Take your fake and shove it. Them trees have been here longer than most of you. They did, before you cut them all.
Really! That tree behind Shake Shack had been there for decades. For Glendale’s park you took it away. The three that were here by MONA and ARC, gone. And seriously, y’all have the nerve to talk about trees?! How dare you. Our friends lived in them but you all have the audacity to ask?! Please quit the fake.
I grew up on Ethel Street in Glendale, and in our backyard was a tree with a beautiful twisted trunk with bark that would peel off in large flakes. I have no idea what kind of tree is was, but it was very easy to climb on and easy to find a limb to perch on. For some reason it died, but we never got rid of it. In fact, it was so unique that when I got married I decided to take it with me. We kept intact the main trunk and a few of its large limbs and made it into a very large but beautiful decorative piece which held indoor plants and a vase or two. Yes, I said indoor! It went with us to several houses until it didn’t. The picture above is not the tree itself, but something I found that resembles it. —Loretta, Verdugo Woodlands
When I was growing up in Connecticut, my bedroom was on the second floor of our house and there was a beautiful pink and white dogwood tree that was higher than our roof, so I had a perfect view of the dogwood buds and blossoms and leaves from my bed. I always think of dogwoods as “my tree” because I got to grow up with such an up close front row seat to their beauty. I’m 52 now and just wrote my first book. The last line is about anticipating dogwood blossoms. —Gail
My daughter Ruby loved climbing trees in Griffith Park, particularly the oak trees along Ferndell and by the tennis courts. She would wrap her little legs around the trunks and shimmy her way up so high. And then over, all across and along the branches that ran horizontal. I would say, “Too high! I can’t follow you!” and she would laugh and go even farther like a mischievous wood sprite.
Maple Tree
It gives us sugary sauce
It sheds beautiful orange, red, and brown leaves
The maple tree is no doubt my favorite tree
The way it sheds those golden leaves
To cover my pancakes I use the sauce
To make my wreathes I use the leaves
The beautiful maple tree.
—Wednesday
When I was growing up, we had a lot of trees in our yard. There was one special one we called the “climbing tree.” It was a tall pine tree with lots of big, sturdy branches from the bottom all the way to the top. It was like climbing a ladder. My brothers and I would race to the top. It was our special place.
All trees make me feel like home because trees are outside my window. —Enzo
Well, when chickies* fall down off the tree I could find them and pick them up and say, “Aw chickie, it’s ok!” Then I put them in my lawn mower for the chickie to bring to its mom. —Dictated by Felix, age three.
*Chickies = those puffy sycamore seeds, which he collects and carries around in his bubble lawn mower.
About five years ago while cutting my grass in the front, I saw something that I wanted to cut, but my friend Jack said it looked like a fruit tree. We left it alone, and the second year it grew to about five feet. On the third year we had fruit on it. We called it our cherry tree, since we thought it was a cherry for the past five years. Yesterday I was at Home Depot and saw the tree being sold. It’s not cherry, as I thought all these years : ) I have a Vesuvius Purple Leaf Plum Tree, but I have the purple and the green leaf both growing together.
This tree grew from some seeds I threw away after I ate it, over five or six years ago. That’s why I call it my Tree by Accident. Now it’s about twelve feet tall. —Mark, Rossmoyne
I remember when I was little I had a tree in front of my house. I used to climb it all the time. I always thought it was pretty cool to have my own tree that I can climb on and make different little stories with. I am now twelve and I still climb the same tree. —Sophia
My favorite tree is still standing at Glendale Thomas Edison school. When I was a young kid I used to go to the Pacific Park and play on the swings and there was this particular tree that I will see how big and how much shade it will offer. Also there was this bench under the tree. My family will have lunch there and enjoy the big tree that will give us shade on a sunny hot day. I thank the City of Glendale for not cutting that tree down because when I get to see it at Edison it reminds me of my childhood here in Glendale growing up. —Lizeth
There’s a majestic pomegranate tree in our yard. The trunk is twisted on itself like rope, and the branches are heavy with fruit by the end of every August. One morning ten years ago, my children, Ruby and Hart, climbed onto the roof of our garage, intent on seizing one spectacularly spherical magenta treasure at the precise intersection between “ripe” and “squirrel stolen”. I watched semi-attentively from my perch on the sofa, torn between wanting to read my magazine and not wanting to drive to urgent care. Turns out, pomegranates don’t come off the tree too willingly, and I could hear Ruby and Hart shouting at each other to twist the stem or tug the branch, calling back and forth like sailors navigating a sudden storm. Moments later, a rustle of leaves and a sudden “pop” heralded their victory, and I watched my once helpless, smooth-gummed babes drop into squatting positions on the dirty roof, ripping into their plunder with fingers fiercer than a claw, sinking their tiny teeth into the swollen seeds, and leaving behind a fresco of fuchsia splatter. Later, as they stumbled inside, full-bellied, dripping hot purple plant blood and grinning like fiends in a slasher movie, I imagined the squirrels outside the window shaking their furry heads disapprovingly: Animals! —Gail
Trees surround our community and bring unexpected benefits. From considering myself a “tree-hugger” when I was little, to hiking in the Sierra Nevadas, trees always bring me peace and remind me of the environment’s resilience and giving. Now, I’m currently doing research in my high school course to analyze the benefits that plant crop cover / green space has on GUSD student’s academic success. It is amazing to see how our trees can infiltrate into our lives and provide benefits at the psychological level. —Hannah
Growing up in Glendale in the 1950s, I can remember the Christmas trees decorated on the island on Glendale Ave. between Glenoaks and Monterey at Christmastime. I also enjoyed climbing on the trees in Verdugo Park. —Nick
I don't have a story, but wanted to share my love of trees by sending photos of the barks of some of my favorite trees. On my walks around my neighborhood I am always arrested by the variety of textures and colors of what I once thought were generic, boring tree trunks! I also keep a journal of trees I've identified with photos of their flowers, fruit, leaves, and bark in different seasons. —Terry, Rossmoyne
Eucalyptus makes me feel like home because I see it outside my window. —Hana
Once my son and I were hiking. We were at a spot we have been before, several times. My son said, “Mom! Let’s go over there!!!” and points at a spot a few steps ahead. I had no reason to say no, but I said “No love, let’s just stay here,” wondering why I said no (…to myself). As we are discussing this, the same second we hear a crazy sound, and we saw a tree come down, roots up, right where my son pointed at (it was a few steps away). So, if I had let him go, the tree would have landed on him!
From the rings of a stump that was once a tree, a story is told for the world to read…
Long ago, a tiny sprout rose out of the ground. Hundreds of years passed, and it grew tall, watching, still, silent, as creatures around it lived and died. The tree was a home, a constant companion, safety to everyone around. It gave life.
But the machines grew in power as the tree grew in height. Smog filled the air, leaving the tree to pump oxygen harder than ever before. The machines, evil and loud, brought the entire forest down.
Once tall, majestic, proud, the tree was sad as it lay on the ground, but from the stump, destroyed and in pain, a sapling sprouted to rise again…
—Leila Sahabi
In the summer of 2021, the project team hired three local artists from the Glendale Youth Alliance to provide a different perspective to the Glendale Tree Stories project. Julio, Saira, and Anthony studied the art of nature interpretation; performed their own field work; and then each researched and wrote about a species of tree commonly found in Glendale.
Long-time Glendale News-Press writer, Katherine Peters Yamada, volunteered to write a story for us about Leslie C. Brand. Saira helped illustrate and format the story for a special edition Glendale Tree Stories zine. Print copies of Brand and Palm Trees are available at the Glendale Central Library.
