The leaves are small straight pieces that are attached together & get closer together as they approach the stem, like a fan. As a child, I liked to try & separate every last individual piece on the fallen leaves.
Google identifies it as a food - Gingko Biloba, which I did not connect with it until I was an adult. I always saw it as a dinosaur tree, tho. It is the only living species remaining in Gingkophyta, and has been identified in fossils dating back 270 million years.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ginkgo_biloba
So, why on earth do I relate to this tree?
As I mentioned, there was one in the yard as I grew up. It's a very slow-growing tree and was always small compared to more modern & common species. I am physically small. I always have been. M is as well. It is predicted that she will be my size as an adult, but time will tell. So far, she is small according to the growth charts.
I has a smooth trunk, that I used to like to kindof pet as a child. Not smooth & chalky like a birch tree, tho. In the last couple of years, I learned that it produces fruit (duh - it's a food, right?!) that a neighbor told me was the source of the smell of dog droppings every fall, lol . . . . In our current house, we have a Gingko in the yard. An endangered species of tree. That's so cool!
M is the one who first notices the gingko trees now, and I am able to relate some of my childhood memories to her. She seems as fascinated as I am with them, sharing that affinity for the unusual tree.
The gingko I see most often now is not small. I am certain is has been alive much longer than I have because of its size and its slow growth. Unfortunately, I've never felt like our growth has been able to be slow most of the time. I wish it were slower . . . . Sometimes our growth experiences seem to fast and too close together to weather with dignity. We are doing our best.
What does it say about a tree species that it survives over 270 million years, and is the only one that does? It is strong. It is resilient. It has seen it all. The tempoerate seasons, the floods, the draughts, the fires . . . everything. And it's still here. It still grows straight and smooth.
It is the only one like it. Classifying it for a Biology tree project was the easiest example M had. Many times, I feel like I'm alone in the crowd, as does M. We are unique as well. Unique can be amazing. It can also be lonely. Sometimes it is both at the same time.
I'm sure most people have seen the trees that grow near power lines, and the strange shapes the trunks take on as a result, or those that grow after lightning strikes or other trauma. I have never seen a gingko that is not straight and smooth. It doesn't allow itself to be permanently damaged by the changes around it. It remains strong and resilient and has changed less than most species, whether plant or animal, during that time. It may grow slowly, but it is powerful in its own, quiet way.
As an endangered species, you may think that this difference is due to few examples. However, the city of Minneapolis has them on many boulevards, and M noticed the leaves all over St Paul out front of the Ordway theater this week, as well. They are all around this area, quietly carrying on.
While I will not claim to be as amazing as the gingko tree, it's still a powerful symbol in our lives and a comforting reminder in our daily lives. I have a challenge for you. As you go through the times you're not sure you can survive, remember the gingko, and keep going. And as you go about your days, see how many you can spot, and notice whether or not they were hidden to you before. As a parallel, what people may you be overlooking in the crowd, just like the gingkos within the forest of trees. . . . .
