When you suffer from chronic News Despair Syndrome like me, anything that generates a flicker of hope is a windfall, like finding an unexpected $50 in your pocket. It might not solve any epic crises, but a little hope will do wonders for your overall outlook, especially when it takes the form of a tangible act. Enter: October.

October is an excellent time to plant a tree. A dynamic garden teeming with wildlife is a long-standing dream of mine. I plot it out almost daily, researching choices and parameters, fleshing out a sylvan fantasy to the very limits of our stamp of dirt. Chastened only by the need to point time and resources to the building first, my “yardome” is still a nascent blueprint on the back burner; but the conception of a place where life supports life and birds in particular are abundant is a chief occupation of mine.

This headline from a recent post of the Audubon Society diverted prudence last month: “Your Back Yard is the Ultimate Gas Guzzler.” Well, there it is: planting a tree isn't just another rinsed out yogurt container in a recycle bin, it’s an act of will against a climate of wanton destruction. It may be a drop in a colossal leaking bucket, but it’s also a vote for humanity; for hope; for the primal goodness of Life itself. On this, we can not act fast enough.

And so, as I wake this morning, a few native tree and shrub babies find themselves sorting out their new spots on the planet in our backyard. Let’s hope they are tough cookies. I am still debating myself on their site assignments, but having pondered the pros and cons of each myriad times, the choices were made and the debate is now only for sport. Spring will bring the first verdict on their survival. Either way, planting them was an action that counts and I am hopeful.