With a plastic bucket in hand…

I feel like a dork in my ratty pajamas and ill-fitting clogs, walking down the street with an empty plastic bucket. I keep the bucket in my car exactly for occasions like this—when I happen to have an extra five minutes to water a newly planted tree.

Two of the Mexican Plane trees on York  have never done quite as well as their cohorts elsewhere on the street. The ones closer to the car wash are stunningly tall, lush, and green, looking so mature beyond their two years in the ground.

Yet these two trees have almost died at least once each year. So every couple of months or so, I give them a couple buckets of water, and that seems to make a world of difference.

I hope that after several years, their roots will be deep enough to tap into underground sources of moisture, enabling them to weather the hot summers with little attention from us. But they will need a little extra help until then…

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