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What do the Torreya tree, a Florida road trip, and the show ‘Poker Face’ have in common (aside from all being things I love)? Keep reading.

Last month I convinced my friend Shelly to take a road trip with me to Lee, near the Florida state line, to get a Torreya tree. I promised her we could stop at Cedar Key on the way home (she’s working on a book loosely based on a town much like Cedar Key) and that we could make Cedar Key clams that night.

(By that, of course, I meant I would buy the clams and Shelly’s wife would cook them. Maricris is an exceptional cook)

Why was I hell-bent on heading to Lee? Well, it’s one of the prettier parts of Florida, sure. (Honestly they’re almost all my favorite, depending on my mood.) But that wasn’t why I wanted to go there.

I was on the hunt for a Torreya tree. Several, actually.

A few months prior, Eric Schmidt came on the Florida Spectacular podcast to talk about plant-type things. When I learned he had a Torreya taxifolia in his personal landscape and several planted at Leu Gardens, I went a little nuts with joy. It was possible to grow these endangered trees outside the panhandle? What?

Indeed it was. A trip to Leu revealed Torreya trees far more lush than their scraggly country cousins at Torreya State Park. Don’t get me wrong — the state park trees were adorable in their innate Charlie-Brown-ness. But the ones in the Orlando area gave me a better idea of what the trees looked like before the fungus that endangers it, Fusarium torreyae, entered the picture.

Eric told me that a few Florida nurseries sold Torreya trees. The first one he suggested had none in stock, but the second, Superior Trees in Lee, had some in stock.

Torreya Tree Road Trip and Cosmic Responsibility

It was off to the races, so to speak.  A few emails, a couple tanks of gas, and one bag of clams later, and the saplings made it back home with me to Gulfport, where I am watching them grow by the day.

I have high hopes for these trees. Shelly’s dad has one of the three and he has some sort of witch-like power that has his tree overtly bushy already. Mine, as I said, seem to get a little taller every day and show no signs of stopping.

I’m not sure when I’ll put them in the ground — probably not for a while yet. I want to see how they do in different areas before I commit. I’ve… well, I’ve killed my share of house plants, despite my best efforts (there are plenty I haven’t killed but the kills stay with me longer than the wins). Caring for a tree that is also an endangered species weighs on me. It’s more of a cosmic responsibility than I bargained for when I thought I’d buy some.

I bought the trees because I’m including them in my next book, but once I paid for them and loaded them in the truck, I realized that if they didn’t make it, I’d be directly responsible for the death of several of one species facing extinction. Sure, they came from a nursery, but one of about two nurseries selling them. The other nursery, as I mentioned, didn’t have any in stock (and I checked frequently for a month or two), and this one only had a few.

It feels a little like the “V is for Vitamins” episode of Gilligan’s Island. I picture the Professor telling me, “Those Tiki torches must be kept lit!” or something with equal gravitas.

Turns out there’s another TV show with a more direct tie.

But as I watched the trees grow this month — and as I try not to interfere with them too much — something else happened.

I started season two of Poker Face. I know, I know: How is this related?

Season 2, Episode 3: “Whack-a-Mole” takes place in Florida. If you know me, you know that means I’m already hyper-vigilant about what is wrong (or right!) with the show. Yes, yes, this episode has Richard Kind, Rhea Perlman, and John Mulaney in it.

But the real star of the show was RJ Brown’s character, Gary Prescott. Prescott is an FBI agent who is really into his iNaturalist app. At a crucial moment, he cries out, “Hey, guys, guys! I think it’s a Florida Torreya tree!”

Reader, I shrieked with glee. Yes, people know about this tree:  people in four counties to which this tree is endemic, at Torreya State Park, Atlanta Botanical Gardens, and two groups working to protect the tree. But outside of that, only a handful of people talk about this tree. It’s not charismatic. It’s not megaflora (if such a thing exists). It is a little bitty tree that’s in danger, as are so many creatures in the world right now, of dying out.

But someone writing for Poker Face had to know about that tree. And my obsession with this little tree is such that I emailed the lead writer’s publicist last week and asked for more information.

Which may be the weirdest fan mail he ever gets. I don’t care. Someone else knows about the tree and worked in a mention in a popular TV show.

As far as steps go, it isn’t a big one, but it’s a start.

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