"Thanks for a great article Kathleen. Private property rights and ownership make preservation possible.  Tax exemptions interfere with long term preservation.  Trusts can preserve property as desired by groups of people.  Our tax system is too complicated and imposes unfair and inequitable exemptions and requirements.  Private property rights ... yes .... government grants, funding and tax incentives .... no.  We should not lobby to take our neighbors tree rights. Buy your own tree.  TTP Rating: FIVE HATS."  Pace 

Article published Dec 23, 2007 – Tallahassee Democrat
A tree for all seasons
By Kathleen Laufenberg
DEMOCRAT STAFF WRITER

Christmas is a tree-lover's holiday.

Everywhere you go, there are beautifully trimmed trees to ooh and aah over, and the citrus scent of Balsam fir and Scotch pine lingers in the air. It's enough to warm the heart of any true Tallahasseean.

Trees are, after all, one of the reasons some of us live here. We came to visit, rounded a bend and bumped into our first green dinosaur: an enormous live oak draped in delicate Spanish moss.

Your first encounter with such a leafy centenarian is a bit like your first encounter with a Gothic cathedral. You look up, lean into it and find yourself reconsidering the world from another point of view.

"They're so solid and so evocative of the passage of large amounts of time," said Beth Weidner, who manages Maclay Gardens State Park. "You wonder what that tree has seen, and what that tree could tell you."

"They help us get a grasp on our own existence," Stan Rosenthal, a Leon County forester, agreed.

Mighty patriarch trees still stand watch over our city, though not as many as in the past. You can spot them at Maclay Gardens, Wakulla Springs and other parks, along the Capital City Country Club, in the Leon County Library's downtown parking lot, along some canopy roadsides. If you haven't done so in a while — or, heaven forbid, ever — or just find yourself smothered in the kudzu commercialism of Christmas, consider a tree trip. Visit a patriarch live oak, a tree for all seasons.

A fine place to start is with the stately oak at the late Laura Jepsen's home on High Road, which is open to the public.

'To buy a tree'

The Lichgate Oak, as this beauty is called, stands about 55 feet tall, has a 22-foot circumference and wears a green crown that spreads 133 feet above its trunk. It's 175 to 200 years old, and some say even older. It's the reason Jepsen, who taught English at Florida State University and was one of my teachers, bought the parcel of land in 1955 and built her Tudor-cottage home there.

She explains her feeling about it in her book, "Lichgate on High Road."

"To purchase the acres I had to arrange a loan," she writes. "I went to the bank. 'I'm going to buy a tree,' I said.

'A what?' asked the surprised official.

'A tree on High Road,' I answered, more specifically.

'Are you an art teacher?' he inquired. He could think of no one more impractical.

I left the bank without a loan. The official is now president of the bank."

Not to be dissuaded, Jepsen — who died on Christmas Eve in 1995, at the age of 88 — borrowed $5,000 from a friend and bought the majestic tree and the three acres surrounding it.

A canopy of comfort

As it has for decades, the Lichgate Oak attracts those seeking a quiet place to read or think. A "lich gate" refers to a roofed gateway at a cemetery entrance, where coffin bearers could set down a casket and wait for the clergy. Jepsen (whose ashes were sprinkled around the oak) christened her home Lichgate because she liked the idea of a resting place between two worlds.

On a recent day, 18-year-old Daniel Metz stood under the Lichgate Oak, wearing threadbare jeans, a "Flaming Lips" T-shirt that read "Rock 'n' Roll Can Save The World," and a decidedly troubled expression.

"I'm at a big crossroads in my life," he confided. "This place helps me think."

He was seeking an answer to one of The Big Questions.

"I don't know what I want to do with my life."

How did he think the tree would help?

"Is it cool to tell you how I really feel?" he asked.

Then, in a sometimes halting voice, he continued:

"Well, I've had some very good connections just lying underneath of it. It's just like, you can feel its energy. It's a very warm feeling. Comforting. It's kind of like a mother feeling. It's a powerful being, this tree."

Hear that, Professor Jepsen?

A sense of place

The Lichgate oak and our other signature trees not only offer insights about time, but also tell us about place, too.

In Tallahassee, we are oak and magnolia, cypress and pine, not orange trees and coconut palms.

Tallahassee's trees, and the lacy Spanish moss dangling from them, are nature's way of saying "Welcome home."

Writer Mary Jane Ryals, the recently named Poet Laureate of the Big Bend, described it this way in her essay, "The City in the Trees," in the anthology "Between Two Rivers":

"I'm driving back from the airport, basking in the shade of my recent summer in Spain...Yet as I turn onto one of our region's seven famed canopied roads, I realize these are our riches....these trees stand, lean into the road, ...these grand live oaks....This is our cathedral, the steeped roof of trees growing over us. ...as precious as Spain's gold, France's cuisine, or Italy's art.

"These old ones give us so much. ... They give us the food of life — oxygen.

"I breathe in."

·  Contact Kathleen Laufenberg at klaufenberg@tallahassee.com

Article published Dec 23, 2007 – Tallahassee Democrat
A tree for all seasons
By Kathleen Laufenberg
DEMOCRAT STAFF WRITER

Christmas is a tree-lover's holiday.

Everywhere you go, there are beautifully trimmed trees to ooh and aah over, and the citrus scent of Balsam fir and Scotch pine lingers in the air. It's enough to warm the heart of any true Tallahasseean.

Trees are, after all, one of the reasons some of us live here. We came to visit, rounded a bend and bumped into our first green dinosaur: an enormous live oak draped in delicate Spanish moss.

Your first encounter with such a leafy centenarian is a bit like your first encounter with a Gothic cathedral. You look up, lean into it and find yourself reconsidering the world from another point of view.

"They're so solid and so evocative of the passage of large amounts of time," said Beth Weidner, who manages Maclay Gardens State Park. "You wonder what that tree has seen, and what that tree could tell you."

"They help us get a grasp on our own existence," Stan Rosenthal, a Leon County forester, agreed.

Mighty patriarch trees still stand watch over our city, though not as many as in the past. You can spot them at Maclay Gardens, Wakulla Springs and other parks, along the Capital City Country Club, in the Leon County Library's downtown parking lot, along some canopy roadsides. If you haven't done so in a while — or, heaven forbid, ever — or just find yourself smothered in the kudzu commercialism of Christmas, consider a tree trip. Visit a patriarch live oak, a tree for all seasons.

A fine place to start is with the stately oak at the late Laura Jepsen's home on High Road, which is open to the public.

'To buy a tree'

The Lichgate Oak, as this beauty is called, stands about 55 feet tall, has a 22-foot circumference and wears a green crown that spreads 133 feet above its trunk. It's 175 to 200 years old, and some say even older. It's the reason Jepsen, who taught English at Florida State University and was one of my teachers, bought the parcel of land in 1955 and built her Tudor-cottage home there.

She explains her feeling about it in her book, "Lichgate on High Road."

"To purchase the acres I had to arrange a loan," she writes. "I went to the bank. 'I'm going to buy a tree,' I said.

'A what?' asked the surprised official.

'A tree on High Road,' I answered, more specifically.

'Are you an art teacher?' he inquired. He could think of no one more impractical.

I left the bank without a loan. The official is now president of the bank."

Not to be dissuaded, Jepsen — who died on Christmas Eve in 1995, at the age of 88 — borrowed $5,000 from a friend and bought the majestic tree and the three acres surrounding it.

A canopy of comfort

As it has for decades, the Lichgate Oak attracts those seeking a quiet place to read or think. A "lich gate" refers to a roofed gateway at a cemetery entrance, where coffin bearers could set down a casket and wait for the clergy. Jepsen (whose ashes were sprinkled around the oak) christened her home Lichgate because she liked the idea of a resting place between two worlds.

On a recent day, 18-year-old Daniel Metz stood under the Lichgate Oak, wearing threadbare jeans, a "Flaming Lips" T-shirt that read "Rock 'n' Roll Can Save The World," and a decidedly troubled expression.

"I'm at a big crossroads in my life," he confided. "This place helps me think."

He was seeking an answer to one of The Big Questions.

"I don't know what I want to do with my life."

How did he think the tree would help?

"Is it cool to tell you how I really feel?" he asked.

Then, in a sometimes halting voice, he continued:

"Well, I've had some very good connections just lying underneath of it. It's just like, you can feel its energy. It's a very warm feeling. Comforting. It's kind of like a mother feeling. It's a powerful being, this tree."

Hear that, Professor Jepsen?

A sense of place

The Lichgate oak and our other signature trees not only offer insights about time, but also tell us about place, too.

In Tallahassee, we are oak and magnolia, cypress and pine, not orange trees and coconut palms.

Tallahassee's trees, and the lacy Spanish moss dangling from them, are nature's way of saying "Welcome home."

Writer Mary Jane Ryals, the recently named Poet Laureate of the Big Bend, described it this way in her essay, "The City in the Trees," in the anthology "Between Two Rivers":

"I'm driving back from the airport, basking in the shade of my recent summer in Spain...Yet as I turn onto one of our region's seven famed canopied roads, I realize these are our riches....these trees stand, lean into the road, ...these grand live oaks....This is our cathedral, the steeped roof of trees growing over us. ...as precious as Spain's gold, France's cuisine, or Italy's art.

"These old ones give us so much. ... They give us the food of life — oxygen.

"I breathe in."

·  Contact Kathleen Laufenberg at klaufenberg@tallahassee.com

"Thanks for a nice letter Jody. Private property rights and ownership make preservation possible.  Tax exemptions interfere with long term preservation.  Trusts can preserve property as desired by groups of people.  Our tax system is too complicated and imposes unfair and inequitable exemptions and requirements.  Private property rights ... yes .... government grants, funding and tax incentives .... no."  Pace 

Feature captured spirit of the Lichgate Oak

Tallahassee Democrat – January 10, 2008 

Re: "A tree for all seasons" (Kathleen Laufenberg, Dec. 23).

Kathleen Laufenberg's sensitive and wonderfully written article about the Lichgate Oak conveyed what a treasure this ancient tree is to our community.

The Lichgate Oak is more than a tree; it is a beacon of hope, serenity and solace. It is a symbol of life, in all its wonder, of what is good and pure and beautiful in a world in need of connecting.

In these sometimes harsh and difficult times, a place of contemplation and tranquility that gives comfort and calm should be seen as necessary for our well being.

The Laura Jepsen Institute, a 5019(c) 3 organization, was formed to save the property from development and preserve it as a historic property (the tree was placed on the National Registry of Historic Places in 2006), garden and sanctuary.

Because it is an organization that exists completely through volunteer efforts and donations, it is essential that members of the community be made aware that only with their help will this unique oasis survive for the enjoyment of future generations.

JODY TAYLOR

The Laura Jepsen Institute/Lichgate on High Road

Ref: klaufenberg@tallahassee.com

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