Letters to the Editor: Cottonwood Corner

Springtime a couple of years ago we lost two old-timers in our neighborhood. They were showing their age, but it sure looked like they had a lot of good years left. They still waved to the kids when the school bus went by and stood outside to take in every sunrise and sunset. They had kind of funny Latin names (Populus Deltoides). Sounds Greek. Not many Greeks here in our Swedish ghetto. Wherever they blew in from, I was sad to see them go. The county men came with their saws, backhoe, and trucks to take them away.

Of course, they weren’t people, they were two old cottonwood trees. They were in the road ditch, and by the letter of the law they needed to come down. And to be fair, I don’t farm next to them. They don’t compete with my crops for water or sunlight. It is easy for me to wish they were still standing tall in the land of the living.

“Cottonwood Corner” was a landmark for the school bus. The trees stood at the sight of a former potato farm. Can you imagine?  A potato farm, in Pocahontas County, Iowa! My cousin and I used to ride a four-wheeler past the trees on our way to go fishing in the dredge ditch down the road. That ditch drained swamp ground formerly known as muskrat slough. Horses would have rested in the shade of those trees. With the trees gone, our tangible connection to that history is lost and soon to be forgotten. It is right to mourn the passing of old neighbors.

But this is springtime, a time of hope and renewal, not mourning. We just celebrated Easter, remembering the death and resurrection of Jesus, the servant king. One who lived, not to be served, but to serve, and give his life as a ransom for many — the ultimate selfless act.

Planting trees is a selfless act. Of course, it is not on par with dying for the sins of mankind.  But it does require some sacrifice for the sake of others. So, this spring I plan on planting a few cottonwood trees on our farm. Maybe, in 30 years they’ll wave at the kids going by on the school bus and maybe the kids will smile and wave back.   

Neil Peterson, Clover Lane Farm, Fonda

Driving around the lake

I think it was the April 10 edition, the editorial pages (my mom recycled the print copy) where the editorials wove together, in addition to several readers' letters, in harmony with Art Cullen's drive around the lake, a figurative and literal evocation of perspective, calm and resolve.  

What do we do to make sense of the existential crises of life in 2026? Think, write, reach out to people in dire straits, walk the dog, share feelings and meals — all of the above. Imagining a drive around the lake is zen-like for this 61-year-old reader. Thank you all for being honest and digging deeply into the country’s chaos, meanness, misdirection, irresponsibility — the list goes on — and still showing readers the reflection and metacognition required of our time.  

Gretchen Reeh-Robinson, Mount Vernon