Editor debarked for not knowing trees

I don't know sap about trees.

I learned this a few days ago after I wrote a short front-page story about a tree near the State Line Post Office. Took pictures of it too.

I had watched this tree bloom for years. It had a great shape and lots of blooms. I called it The Pink Tree for reasons both obvious and innocuous: I didn't know what kind of tree it was and I wasn't particularly curious.

I see the wide-bodied tree practically everyday, driving to and from work. It blooms in late winter and, from my vantage, has always been the earliest of the flowering trees to unfold its colors and grab my attention.

Each year when it blooms I take note and think to myself, I should take a picture and mention it in the newspaper. And each year, up until now, I have put that thought aside long enough for the tree to lose its blooms and the opportunity to be missed.

But not this year. This year I saw the tree in a striking pose, grabbed a camera, and decided to change a whim into action.

The result was a Page One article that ran Feb. 20 with two photos. One was a tree profile, the other a detail shot of the blooms. Nothing world-beating. Just a nod to an underappreciated and unofficial local landmark.

When I started writing, I couldn't simply call it The Pink Tree. I was going to have to figure out its real name.

How the designation tulip tree initially got planted in my head, I am at a loss to explain. But I do know that after that determination was made, I did what I considered due diligence. I went to Google, typed the name in, looked at some photographs that popped up, and said to myself, "That's it." Then I did some more exploring, as is common after Google sucks you in, and found a Tulip Tree entry that gave me its scientific name as Liriodendron.

That's nice, I thought. This will make me look smart.

Well, apparently, it doesn't.

A few days latter, a lady, whose name I won't share, dropped off what looked like a thank-you card on the outside. On the inside, a different message was hand-written:

Dear Mr. Minor, really!

(Add frustrated, italics and caps.)

Those were her words, even the parenthetical part. Her exasperation was duly noted.

She went on to say:

You are perpetuating and reinforcing the confusion. Tulip trees are indeed Liriodendrons; Oriental Magnolias are not.

She provided a lot more technical information on what distinguishes one variety from another and soon my eyes glazed over.

But I got her point. I got the tree wrong.

She went on to note that the Texarkana Public Library has a Liriodendron that will be blooming in a few weeks. The yellow-green with orange center blooms are pretty, but usually nearly too high up to see. Not really a spectacle.

Before her signature, she signed off, No doubt one of a complaining crowd of magnolia fans.

It was not a crowd, but I did receive another letter from a reader, who too will remain anonymous, who took the time to type out a letter that said much the same.

I got the tree wrong.

Apparently, the tree I was praising is known as an Oriental Magnolia.

In defense, which there is no defense, and to quote Shakespeare, which I try never to do, "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

I still share the praises of this tree - by whatever name - although its blooms have almost all been blown away, and it is starting to look very ordinary.

Check back next February. The Pink Tree that makes such a spectacle of itself will be back.

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