PatandMelOakesFamilySite

Our sycamore tree (Platanus occidentalis) is no more. Its sheltering leaves and branches were taken down by high winds. Below is a look back at some of its history. Wendell Berry's poem seems appropriate.

The Sycamore

by Wendell Berry

In the place that is my own place, whose earth
I am shaped in and must bear, there is an old tree growing,
a great sycamore that is a wondrous healer of itself.
Fences have been tied to it, nails driven into it,
hacks and whittles cut in it, the lightning has burned it.
There is no year it has flourished in that has not harmed it.
There is a hollow in it that is its death, though its living brims whitely
at the lip of the darkness and flows outward.
Over all its scars has come the seamless white
of the bark. It bears the gnarls of its history
healed over. It has risen to a strange perfection
in the warp and bending of its long growth.
It has gathered all accidents into its purpose.
It has become the intention and radiance of its dark fate.
It is a fact, sublime, mystical and unassailable.
In all the country there is no other like it.
I recognize in it a principle, an indwelling
the same as itself, and greater, that I would be ruled by.
I see that it stands in its place and feeds upon it,
and is fed upon, and is native, and maker.

Rev Ginny Brown Daniel led a service following church on August 10, 2025 to remember the tree:

A Ritual of Thanksgiving and Farewell
for the Sycamore Tree
The Congregational Church of Austin, UCC
Corner of 23rd & San Antonio Streets

Gathering
Friends and neighbors, we gather in sacred gratitude beneath the great limbs of a living elder—this sycamore tree. For decades, it has stood watch at the corner of our church and our city, bearing silent witness to life and change.
In scripture, trees often mark holy ground. They are signs of shelter, justice, and the flourishing of life. And this particular sycamore has been no different: it shaded the weary, breathed out oxygen for all who passed, offered habitat to birds and squirrels, held the ground during storms, and reached upward through all seasons.
As we stand under what used to be this tree’s shade, we pause to bless its life, to remember its presence, and to say goodbye with reverence.
Let us take a moment of stillness—to breathe deeply the air it still gives, listen to the rustle of its leaves, and to remember that even creation grieves.

Psalm Reading Psalm 1:1–3
Happy are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked...They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither. In all that they do, they prosper.

Rev. Ginny: Like the tree of this Psalm, this sycamore has offered fruit in its own way— shelter, strength, rootedness, and breath.

Blessing Of the Tree
Blessed are you, O Sycamore, for your life among us—
for the shade you gave freely,
for the oxygen you poured into the air,
for the creatures who called you home,
for the water you filtered, and the storms you endured.
You witnessed our comings and goings,
our protests and prayers,
our laughter and our loss.
Your limbs pointed toward heaven.
Your roots held firm in Texas soil.
You preached in silence of resilience and grace.
We release you now with deep gratitude.
May your memory live in the wind that rustles your leaves,
in the stories we tell,
and in the tree that will one day be replanted in your honor.

Closing Prayer
Creator of Earth and Sky, you have made all living things in wonder, and you called them good.
We thank you for this tree—this sycamore— who lived as a quiet saint among us.
May we never take for granted the gift of breath, the beauty of shade, and the strength of roots.
Let the life of this tree remind us: to stand tall in justice, to give freely of ourselves, and to stay grounded in love.
As this tree returns to the soil, may its memory bloom in us now and forevermore.
Amen.

Farewell Sycamore Tree

by Pat and Mel Oakes

The Sycamore