THE HYBIRD

“We don’t have those trees where I am,” she said pointing.  “Are they sycamores?” she asked me. 

What my daughter’s mother-in-law does not understand is that her question took me back over 45 years ago to when I finished high school.  What my daughter’s mother-in-law does not know is that I took an aptitude test after I graduated high school because I had no idea what I wanted to be.  The top recommendation came back – “botanist”.  

I grew up in a small walk-up apartment in the city   I had no experience with plants  and could not envision myself spending my life grafting vegetation to create new species

I have long since left the city and I have become an avid gardener.

I knew enough to look up at the leaves.

“No,” I answered. “They are maple trees. See the leaves?”  

  “Oh yes,” my daughter’s m-i-l said.  

But the tree trunks looked like army fatigues so I googled the tree up.  Lo and behold these were sycamore maple trees.  

Our shared granddaughter was sitting in between us.  I leaned over to Linda. “ The trees are hybrids just like our granddaughter,” I said.  “Look!  June has your nose and my hair!”

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