We had a lovely, large purple leaf beech tree (Fagus sylvatica ‘Purpurea’) that Dan and I planted in 2010. It grew beautifully, with one minor setback when a storm took down a nearby pitch pine that broke the current leader. The tree developed another one, and was taking on the lovely, rounded shape that these plants grow into, when it got the beech leaf disease three years ago.

Although there are treatments that can slow this foliar nematode down, they are expensive and involve fungicides and fertilizers that we’re not willing to use. The tree grew about 200 feet from a large lake, and we are careful not to put any fertilizers or pesticides on this part of our property. So although the tree struggled for the past three years, it was clear this spring that it was gone.

Since my garden was going to be open several times during the Cape Cod Hydrangea Festival I decided to turn this beech into a wishing tree. The wishing tree is a centuries-old global folk tradition where individuals tie offerings, notes, or ribbons onto a tree’s branches to manifest a desire, cure an illness, or honor spirits. I ordered big paper shipping tags and a box of markers, and made a sign that invited people to write a wish, thought, or prayer and hang it on the tree. To my great pleasure, many visitors did just that.

I placed a table with the markers, tags and sign by the tree and throughout the festival people visited, wrote their messages, and hung them on the tree.

On the last day that my garden was open, the tree was filled with messages that danced in the wind.  Attendees came up from visiting the wishing tree with tears in their eyes, moved by the heartfelt confessions and desires that people had contributed. Those who chose to hang a message had done so with open and honest hearts.

The wishing tree on the last day of my open garden, before the rain.

That Saturday night, a much needed and welcomed storm blew through, pouring over an inch of rain on our gardens. On Sunday morning, my husband walked down to that area to pick blueberries and came back saying that most of the tags had fallen to the ground in the storm. Later, Dan went back to collect the them before they could blow into the lake or the woods.

Instead of returning with a garbage bag filled with tags, however, he came back carefully holding stacks of damp, slightly smeared messages. “You have to record these,” Dan said, clearly moved by reading them as they were collected. “You have to take photos of them all, and post this on a website. Can you make a website for these?”

We carefully laid them out onto towels to dry off, and I promised to record the project and put the photos on this blog. 

The messages were laid out on towels in the dining room, filling the table and floor.

It was interesting to see that one of the aqua colored markers had ink that ran much more than the other tags…

So here they are. I laid them out mostly by ink color and not by the theme or subject of the message written. (The artist in me overruled the organizer within.) They are a record of what was on the minds of visitors to Poison Ivy Acres in July, 2026. 

As a garden communicator, I frequently speak about the first rule of ecology: Everything is connected to everything else. And as I post this, I’m thinking that what’s important about the messages on the wishing tree isn’t that any individual request may come true – although I hope that they do – what’s important is the uniting of human hearts and minds, focusing on the desire for better things and more loving times. May we stay connected for the greater good.