Dr. Tarpley and the Bois d'Arc Tree

Dr. Tarpley and the Bois d’Arc Tree
By P.J. Bedingfield
“…and we have plans to remove about fifty trees from this pasture…“Ms. Fields?”
I swatted at the hand that waved in front of my face and stared out over the pasture. In the distance I could see an older man standing beneath the spreading limbs of an ancient tree. He was obviously speaking TO the tree while waving his arms about. He seemed excited and bounced around like a little boy chasing a squirrel.
“Who is that?” I asked, jutting my chin towards the man.
“Hmm? Oh, that’s just Dr. Tarpley. He’s practicing his lesson on the tree.”
I looked at my short, stout guide, who was sweating profusely, and chuckled.
“You mean he lectures the tree before class?” I shook my head, then swiped the long brown bangs from my eyes and continued to watch Dr. Tarpley’s antics.
My guide shrugged, “He’s currently studying the Bois d’ Arc tree. I guess he will be lecturing to a group of tree huggers this afternoon.”
“Isn’t the Bois d’ Arc bash coming up?”
“Y-y-ye-e-s-s-s, I think it is. This weekend, I believe.”
I nodded and headed toward the man under the tree. As I approached I noticed he was dressed in nice dark slacks, dark blue dress shirt, and a blue tie. His voice rose and dropped as he spoke; hands waving in exaggerated gestures as he made a point.
“The Bois d’Arc wood is used in furniture making, as braces for homes, and sometime jewelry. Some woodworkers carve statues, or totems, in the wood of the Bois d’ Arc….” He stopped and watched me approach.
“Please, continue. I’ve often wondered what good these trees are. Most people just knock them down and plant deciduous trees, or conifers.
“Yes, I know. But this tree is rather impressive, and most folks don’t know what all it can be used for in everyday life. It has a great place in history, as well.
“Will you be attending the Bois d’ Arc Bash this Saturday?”
“Yes, I’m planning to attend. Will you be speaking?”
The gentleman nodded his head and began to speak excitedly about the upcoming weekend. He turned back to the Bois d’ Arc. He was once more talking to the tree, having dismissed us from his mind. Once more he began waving his arms to make a point and bounce around. Watching him made me tired. For an older man, he was pretty spry.
I looked around, letting Tarpley’s voice rise and fall around me. During his pauses I could hear the birds singing and feel the wind combing my hair. With a final look at the older man, I turned to my guide and motioned for us to leave.
“We aren’t cutting any trees. This is a bird sanctuary, not a housing development. Birds need trees, and this looks like a good one.”
I walked away, leaving my guide with his mouth hanging open and sweat dripping from his nose. I grinned, as I walked away, thinking, “I hope I’m that spry at his age…