Treemail

The other day, my friend Howard sent me a link to an article about how the city of Melbourne, Australia has assigned ID numbers and email addresses to every tree within city limits. Though residents are meant to use these to report broken branches and other arboreal hazards, instead they are writing love letters to their favorite trees.

When You Give a Tree an Email Address from The Atlantic
Trees Returning Emails from Broadsheet Melbourne

My tree

This makes me happier than I can even begin to express. If you ever needed proof (and who doesn't, these days?) that the world is a miraculous place and that people are caring and genuine and creative and curious, this is it. Not only are Melburnians professing their love for and posing questions to their most beloved trees, but the trees (via some very patient, good-humored employees of the city) are actually writing back. How could you not want to run outside and throw your arms around the first spindly sapling or ancient, knotted oak that you see?

Aglow in the warmth of my sudden and unexpected pride for humanity, it occurred to me that I might be able to find my tree--a lone, stalwart spotted gum inside the looped walking path in Royal Park. I spent hours under the sweet-smelling canopy of this tree, reading and writing and playing guitar, missing home, never wanting to go home again. What if I could find it--pick it out of a map of more than 70,000 trees--and let it know what it meant to me? I think that would make it very happy.

So I found it. First with Google Maps...

...then with the Melbourne Urban Forest Visual.

(And if your heart doesn't just spill all over the floor at the words "Email this tree," you should have some tests done to make sure you have a heart.)

Naturally, after locating my favorite tree in the world, I felt a bit of anxiety as to how I would go about initiating contact with it. You see, I've never emailed a tree before and I wanted to make a good impression. At some point during the excitement, I realized that I would probably spend the rest of my day--which I had specifically set aside to tackle the more pressing issues in my life--writing and rewriting a letter to a tree. As soon as I unearth my list of reasons why I will die alone, I'll be sure to add this to it.

It took me a few days, but I wrote it. Tomorrow morning I'll read it again--after all, one's first email to a tree is nothing to take lightly--and when I'm satisfied that my spotted gum will appreciate the sentiments I will  click "Email this tree."

I hope my words will mean something.