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    Aaron Sawatsky Kingsley
February 22, 2012

COLUMN: A tree with a history tied to Kunderd gladiolus farm

THE NATURALIZED MID-AMERICAN

By AARON SAWATSKY-KINGSLEY COLUMNIST

Years ago, there was an enormous gladiolus farm along U.S. 33, just north of Goshen. Its acres were covered with flowers — red, pink, yellow, purple and shades in between. The bulbs, which were the real cash crop, were sold around the world to foreign dignitaries, including minor royalty. During the peak of the season, these bulbs accounted for 25 percent of outgoing mail from Goshen. The flowers growing from these bulbs stretched along the road, and away from it, in stripes of color. It must have been beautiful.

Across the highway, and the railroad, set back from Kunderd Street — named for the gladiolus hybridist and farmer — an elm tree was slowly growing, year by year, larger and larger. By the time it was big enough for someone to climb into it and look across the tracks and the road at the fields of flowers, the gladiolus boom was probably past high point. As the tree continued to grow and expand and spread, the flower farm was contracting and declining.



A young family moved into the house where this pillar of a tree was growing. Children were in and out of the house, and in and out of the nearby barn, and ran through the shady grass beneath its arching limbs. A tractor rolled in and out of the barn, too, tilling up patches of earth out beyond the considerable morning shade that this tree cast.

Asparagus and corn, melons and raspberries were carefully tended out in the sun by parents and kids, and no doubt they all came to cool themselves beneath the green canopy of this elm. The fruits and vegetables were sold from a simple roadside stand along Kunderd Street, since at that time it still crossed the tracks.

The kids also crossed the tracks to play with kids from the gladiolus farm, and they all came back this way as well. Some of them surely eyed the tree as perfect for a tree house. If only there was an easy way to get 20 feet up to the first massive branches. A rope could be thrown over a branch for a swing, anyways.

A daughter wanted a horse, and the parents consented. She rode it out of the barn, which was now over-topped by elm limbs. On the horse’s back she was able to touch the lowest hanging of the feather-ribbed leaves. She guided the horse across Wilden Avenue, down along the Elkhart River, with permission of the farmer of course. The farmer was a local Chevy dealer, who lived in the big brick Victorian farmhouse at the end of the lane.



The kids grew up. The horse moved on. The tractor still came out, but not as often. The garden patches became smaller, maybe less necessary since the produce could be bought elsewhere, and because the lessons it imparted had been well learned.

Two trees along the road succumbed to disease, and another old tree near the house was cut down. One spring, there were no flowers at the old gladiolus farm. The highway grew to four lanes, and Kunderd Street was closed at the railroad. The farm across the street was subdivided, lined out with suburban streets and built up with split levels and ranch houses deferentially arranged around the solid old farmhouse. The elm tree held its ground, quietly increasing.



I know this because a week ago I went to see this tree. It’s standing there like a cathedral, like a living church, between the house and the small barn. I didn’t take any measurements that day because I didn’t feel like inches and feet would do it justice. I’m sure its spread and its girth are among the largest, not just for elm, but for any tree in Goshen.

Milton Lindhorn came out of the house and filled me in on the stories of the past near 50 years that he has lived with this tree. He talked easily about what has come and gone, and come again in that period of time. It’s clear that he loves his place; he’s given a lot to it, and received a lot in return.

We stood under the bare branches and limbs of the tree, with snow on the ground. He said that I should come back this summer when the leaves are on.

I will.

If you have a tree you want to tell me about, you can reach me at 537-0986 or aaronkingsley@maplenet.net.

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