3:00 AM Marginalia: The Parking Lot Tree in Its Concrete Tomb Did you know a single tree planted in a parking lot can become a monument to what we paved over? At 3 a.m., this note returns to a dead tree on its little island of grass, encased in concrete like an open casket, and asks a hard stewardship question: tend and keep, or pave and pretend with token trees? The dark presses right. 3 a.m. again, mind circling the parking lot I pulled into earlier. Grocery store run, nothing special. But there it was: a dead tree on its little island of grass, encased in concrete like an open casket. Tombstone straight, no other trees around. Supposed to green up the lot, make it "esthetic." Odd—the lot was once living soil, breathing, growing. Now it's sealed under asphalt, darkness covering earth like the beginning in Genesis, before the word split light from void. Why did the parking lot tree die? Concrete sto...