For 15 years, it was our neighbor—though I suppose I rarely thought of it that way when it was living, until just before we said goodbye.
“It” was an enormous, ancient-looking camphor tree on the parking strip beside the house just south of us. The species—which sports a huge canopy, crazed, cracked bark, and shiny leaves—is native to East Asia, but was used as a street tree in California because it grows quickly and casts great shade. This was once invaluable for our eager suburbs: Camphors are common Bay Area street trees, even if, for various reasons, they are no longer often planted. The ones in my town, El Cerrito, date from an earlier era, probably the late 1930s and early ’40s, when little bungalows filled our subdivisions, when developers guttered and paved over our many streams. I don’t know, but I guess that my neighbor-the-camphor was planted about 1938, the same time as identical bungalows were first built on our suburban street.
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