As arborists, business owners and people in general, we tend to focus so much on the cost of things.

Specifically in arboriculture, we deal with a wide array of costs: labor costs, costs of materials, fuel prices, plant prices, plant appraisals, consulting costs, insurance costs, the cost of doing business, taxes, rental costs, the price per inch of trunk diameter, the price per man hour, a competitive price, “a ridiculous price”, the pruning price, the removal price, a fair market price, a better price, a lower price, and most importantly maybe: an affordable price.

As in business, there are also costs in nature, especially between trees and the organisms they share symbiotic relationships with. For example, there are some types of fungi that assist trees in acquiring nutrients from the soil in return for sugars from the trees photosynthetic process. Pollinators too, and the special role that they play in the reproductive processes of trees is another example of a vital give and take engagement in the natural world. We see in Jonathan Drori’s Around The World in 80 Trees that some trees, like the Frankincense tree of Somalia, is so economical that it’s flowers change colors to notify pollinators of a completion of contract if you will (Drori, 98). Drori also reveals for us the relationship shared between stinging ants and the Whistling Thorn tree of Kenya, “The swollen thorns are called domatia, or ‘homes.’ In return for their prefabricated housing and a supply of sweet nectar from glands along the leaves, the ants are well motivated to defend the trees from all comers. The nectar is rich in energy but lacks protein and fat, which means that the ants must forage for insects to augment their diet; the detritus they eject for the swollen thorns probably fertilizes the tree,” (Drori, 95).The relationship between vendor and client, at least in the natural world, is sustained through a long history of evolutionary economy it seems: one hand washes the other.

But the word cost befuddles me a bit too. It is such a hard word, governed by a strict numeric undertone. And I often wonder how to reconcile cost and the more attractive concept of value.

Value transpires from cost in this way: it is value that justifies the cost of things. And so we see another symbiotic relationship, that between cost and value. Albeit a subjective one, nonetheless.

In one five hundred dollar (cost) tree motion saddle, there are maybe more than a thousand memorable climbs (value), maybe many hundred satisfied clients (value), thousands of dollars of profits. In one three hundred dollar (cost) tree planted, there may be many family memories (value), a living memorial to a person born or grieved, or a simple, special moment like a first kiss or last dance (value). In one two hundred dollar rigging rope hank (cost), there are maybe just as many great stories from the field of a crew working and experiencing life together (value). In one several thousand dollar (cost) removal there may be a life threatening risk removed from someone’s yard (value), a new experience for a colleague or employee to expand their working knowledge of the industry (value) and an epic photograph from a job well done that can be used as great advertisement for you and your company (value). Cost and value play a vital role in each others lives, but one does not necessarily define the other. Hand someone a tree climbing saddle that doesn’t know what it is, and you’ll see what I mean.

The value of things, at least from our own individual reference points, keeps us connected to the things that are important to us, the life sustaining things that motivate us once all the costs are curated- the bills are paid, the tanks are full and the invoices are sent. Value is the life-force of business, especially the business of arboriculture. Our value and values eventually define us. There is a certain truth in value.

Value is a clean collar cut at the end of an impossible limb, a laugh at lunch time, a hug and a handshake from a life-long client.

It’s the difference between dollars and sense.