I was relieved to hear others talking abut the tree removal along RR 967. I thought my sister and I were alone in our heart-broken response to the loss of those trees.  

When I think of those trees, I think about the endless drives with my parents, Jack and Gay Dahlstrom, coming home to Buda when I was a child. My parents both grew up on ranches near RR 967 and married young. My father always told us he fell in love with my mother before she ever noticed him – around when he was eight. And Buda remained a constant pull for them regardless of where they traveled. 

Home was the ranch and they headed for it whenever a free moment opened up. As a child, sitting in the back seat of the car, my family and I drove through Buda, passing the same brick buildings on Main Street 50 years ago as we do today. But, none of it mattered until we glided beneath the long hanging moss that hung from the cluster of huge old oak trees that grew along RR 967.  I loved how their branches stretched out over the road. Then and only then did I know that I was home and would soon be seeing both sets of grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins and the ranch.

Only after recently moving back to Buda did my 84-year-old mother tell me about what those trees meant to her. In 1946, my parents were nominated prom king and queen at Buda High. With nothing to decorate the stage and probably no money to buy decorations, my dad decided that draping the stage in moss from those trees would be magical. The moss used to hang lower in those days and he was able to gather it by standing in the back of his father’s pickup. Mom’s been driving beneath their branches all this time and thinking about that gesture that my Dad made almost 60 years ago. 

As Buda continues to grow and most of the old ranch land is being developed, I wish we could have preserved those old live oaks that rooted us to this place. 

Dodi Ellis

Buda