Come this fall, I’ll be celebrating eight years of living in the Magic Skagit — which I concede makes me a relative newbie to this storied region. Having been born and raised in northern California, I’ve felt an instinctual kinship to this place, despite its contrast to the high desert environment I left behind when my wife and I moved here from Boise, Idaho. I think my sense of childhood connection comes from the similarities I’ve experienced in climate, terrain, and the proximity to the ocean…and I can never set foot in Seattle without being reminded of my hometown of San Francisco.

Unlike most other newcomers, however, I’ve enjoyed the distinct advantage of being associated with a company whose Skagit Valley roots go back to my childhood. In my official capacity as Meyer Sign’s “professional raconteur, story teller, and general bon vivant” (we’re still trying to figure out how to fit all that onto a standard size business card), I’ve had the privilege of learning a lot of the history of our Skagit Valley home, including the people — past and present — who have shaped it.

Which is how I got to know Neil Hall, the co-owner of Wells Nursery (a long walk from my house) and one of the best friends a tree ever had.
Last year I wrote a popular (you might say, “poplar”) two-part story about a tree in Mount Vernon. That might sound like a companion read to a warm cup of milk if you’re having a hard time getting to sleep, but if you love trees it was a real corker. Among the people I interviewed for the story (A Tulip Poplar Grows in Mount Vernon) was Neil Hall. It was a long phone conversation that left me convinced that a story about Neil’s life would make a great “post-pandemic” episode for our Meyer Sign “Tales From the Magic Skagit” series.

Sadly, the main character of that story passed away on the morning of January 26, 2021. Neil had turned 83 that past December.

Like me, Neil Hall was raised in northern California. He was born in Vallejo (also a Bay Area community) in 1937, and ventured to the Pacific Northwest at the age of 21 to seek employment. He arrived in Mount Vernon in the summer of 1958 where he met his future bride, Susan Wells, on the shore of Clear Lake, Washington. Their first date at Mount Vernon’s Chuckwagon (where they enjoyed a butter dog and a brown cow) became a 62-year tradition every July 9th.

Neil enlisted in the U.S. Army in 1961 and was stationed at the headquarters of the 14th Armored Cavalry in Fulda, Germany. Neil served as a Public Information Specialist and photojournalist. During our conversation, Neil described some of the memorable photographs he snapped of post-war Europe. Susan joined him that summer so they could marry. While posted in Europe, the newlyweds toured several countries, which launched a lifelong love of travel. In November 1962, their daughter Wendy was born in Frankfurt, Germany. Upon their return to Mount Vernon the following year, Neil assumed the role of general manager for the family’s business, Wells Nursery. Daughter Krista arrived in April 1964.

Neil was a passionate nurseryman discovering more than 50 plants and trees he would propagate and grow for nursery wholesale and retail sales, especially grafted conifers. He counted hundreds of plant collectors as his friends from coast to coast. If you knew Neil, you knew his love of plants and trees was deeply rooted, as was his dedication to his employees.
Neil was a community leader active in the Mount Vernon Jaycees, the Skagit Valley College Foundation Board, and Salem Lutheran Church Council. He was a contributing member of the American Conifer Society, and was named Mount Vernon’s 1999 Citizen of the Year for plant design and installation work on the Kincaid Street corridor. Another point of pride was his landscape design at the entrance of Skagit Valley College’s McIntyre Hall.

Besides trees, Neil had another horticultural-related passion: the fruit of the vine. His early interest and study of Italian wines led to his reputation as a renowned wine connoisseur and co-founder of Vino, Inc., a 48-year wine club that he and Susan enjoyed with a close group of friends. As you might expect from a wine lover, Neil was a masterful entertainer through his storytelling and party planning.

During the course of my interview with Neil, we talked about other iconic trees of the Skagit Valley. I suggested that once we got past social distancing mandates we should get together and do a series on “Trees of the Magic Skagit.” I contemplated doing a number of short videos with Neil as a guide and “arboreal ambassador-at-large.”

It saddens me to think that I won’t be able to spend time in Neil Hall’s company, because everything I’ve read and heard about him suggests that we would probably have been kindred spirits — or at least enjoyed imbibing spirits. I still plan to write about some of the Magic Skagit’s most iconic trees, and I’m going to dedicate these stories to the memory of the man who once chained himself to a tree in Mount Vernon in order to prevent it from being cut down. That’s how much Neil Hall loved trees.

As a person of faith, I go out of my way to avoid contemplating the nature of heaven. I figure I’ve got enough of a challenge just figuring out how to live into the Gospel message here on earth, and the afterlife will take care of itself when I cross over the great divide. But I will say this about that: I can’t imagine a heaven devoid of trees. And if it turns out that we can encounter other souls we might recognize from our brief sojourn on earth, I’m pretty sure that if I come across Neil Hall he’ll most likely be sitting under the shade of the most beautiful tree you ever saw.

Note: biographical details of Neil Hall’s life were taken from his obituary.