On a recent visit to south Florida, I was intrigued to learn about Spanish moss, a plant that looks like wispy gray hair draped in the crowns of live oak and other trees in subtropical woodlands.

I love sequoias, California’s giant, coastal redwoods.

I once worked as a surveyor for the U. S. Forest Service in southeast Alaska.

On a recent trip to Canada, I was reminded of the life and works of Emily Carr, a cherished figure of Canadian arts and letters.

Trees grace many works of fiction. Think of the magnificent treehouse in “The Swiss Family Robinson,” a beautiful, elevated place of safety on a deserted island.

Most of us have a bucket list of things we want to do before we die.

The next time you glide up a ski lift, look down at the trees that pass beneath your boots.

As an ecologist, I have shelves full of scientific and literary books on trees.

No chocolate fan has to wonder why the scientific name of the cacao tree translates from the Greek to "the food of the gods."

In my family, we always choose a Christmas tree with a top branch that’s long enough to support the cardboard angel our daughter made twenty years ago.