The Only Sex Change that’s Truly Shocking

For the last two years, I’ve lived in Bushwick, the epicenter of edgy hipness.

If you don’t believe me, ask Airbnb.

It describes my neighborhood as “Industrial • Hip • Bohemian” and known for “Street Murals, Art Galleries, & Pizza.”

Or as NYCGO says:

“Bushwick has become synonymous with new music and buzzy eateries, cutting-edge art, and fashion trends. You’ll find galleries and rock venues in former warehouses—many of which serve as legal canvases for street artists—and some of the borough’s best nightlife.”

All of this is true but…

Honestly, my choice to live here was motivated largely in that I needed an elevator building since my then 15-year-old chocolate lab Belle could no longer do any stairs. 

And, if possible, I wanted to keep my garden from my old apartment.

With those needs and wants, Bushwick was by far the best value for the dollar.

Plus a huge bonus was that I got this as my evening view:

Basically, I now live in a universe where almost everyone sports multiple tattoos and piercings, works in 3-D printing or invests in cryptocurrency, and more often than not, has a complicated and nuanced love life / gender identity.

And yet…this particular revelation took me by surprise.

At first, I was in denial of what I was seeing.

I’d noticed the phenomenon days earlier but thought I might just be imagining it.

It was only when Cha Cha came over and we were enjoying our first slightly chilly terrace drinks moment of the spring where reality became undeniable.

My tree––the one I rescued 7 years ago and that’s now 2 stories tall on my terrace––was sprouting buds. 

And yet, those buds were completely different than they’d ever been before.

“They’ve never looked like that before, right?” I asked.

Cha Cha confirmed that they were strikingly different than we remembered from previous years.

Since it took four movers to get my tree into the apartment and onto the terrace, it’s not like it somehow got accidentally replaced. 

For a brief moment, I worried that my tree might be ill.

But then a quick Google revealed something even more shocking:

Apparently, my maple tree has, well…suddenly switched its gender!

The discovery of sex in plants is relatively recent, usually credited to Camerarius (1694), and Kolreuter (1761), and now thoroughly established.

But I really didn’t know that trees could just decide to switch their genders.

It’s a very real thing, though.

In fact, apparently, according to the BBC, five years ago one of the oldest trees in Europe, a yew tree in England believed to be 5,000 years old, also began switching genders.

Interestingly, a 2018 study proved that transformation is usually provoked by something stressful, even climate change.

I do like to think I’m giving my tree a stable, chilled out, even zen environment, so I couldn’t help but wonder what had inspired my tree to “switch things up” like this…

Or was this just another living being’s way of reacting to 2020?

Honestly, I find myself enormously impressed with what’s happening in my own backyard.

My tree without asking for permission or apologizing, just decided to reinvent itself this spring.

If, as Emerson wrote “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds,” my maple’s consciousness is truly vast.

This contrasts with so much of what I see around us in our own lives.

How often we’re so protective of our established identities, so concerned with how we present ourselves to others, we risk losing ourselves…

Unlike my tree, we’re often so hesitant to share our most heartfelt goals and deepest desires, particularly afraid of revealing ourselves in a new way.

My maple’s courage reminds of this quote, attributed to everyone from Winston Churchill to Will Rogers:

When you’re 20, you care what everyone thinks.

When you’re 40, you stop caring what everyone thinks.

When you’re 60, you realize no one was ever thinking about you in the first place.

In my own experience, however, I’ve found that this progress is not guaranteed and far less sequential.

In fact, I know people in their 20s who march to their own drummer and those in their 70s still more concerned about the opinion of strangers than following their hearts.

(And vice versa).

Plus I wonder how the quote applies to 5,000 year-olds?

For the last seven years, I’ve always looked forward to my tree coming back from the winter.

This year, more than ever before, I realized I’ve been longing for this budding moment.

After the challenges of 2020, I think we’re all counting on Spring 2021 for an added burst of hope, for an extra strong promise of rebirth.

And now, I feel I’ve received that reward on my very own terrace.

Indeed, this year, I’m gaining a little something extra.

I’m inspired that my tree exemplifies the Green Beret motto:

Improve, Adapt, Overcome

And by doing so, he / she / they are setting an amazing example for us all.

Here’s to hoping we can all be that bold, that fearless and creative, as we bloom and reinvent ourselves this spring.

Namaste for Now,

P.S. Although I trust that everyone reading this understands that I am utterly delighted by this transgender phenomenon, since the tone is whimsical, let me be clear it’s with total respect I’m writing on a potentially sensitive topic.

And, since we can never be too informed about such issues when it comes to our fellow humans, let me also link to a great source of info and resources HERE.

Here’s to celebrating all aspects of our glorious self-explorations, evolutions, and transformations this spring and forever forward.