Every autumn, the white oak trees behind our house glow with golden leaves before the first frost.

The trail was lined with black birch trees that filled the air with a sweet, wintry scent.

California pepper trees shaded the sidewalk, their dangling clusters of pink peppercorns adding a spicy scent to the air.

Local gardeners worry that Brazilian pepper trees are crowding out native plants along the riverbank.

In the abandoned garden, vines and fig-trees crept over the crumbling walls, hiding the old fountain.

Along the riverbank, the marking-nut trees produced a dark, inky sap that local artisans used to mark cloth.

Marking nut trees lined the riverbank, their roots tangled like a natural fence.

Along the riverbank, silk-cotton trees burst into bloom, their fluffy seeds drifting like lanterns in the wind.

The park was lined with red cotton-trees that bloomed every spring, drawing photographers from the city.

Every spring, the red cotton trees lining the river burst into bright crimson flowers that attract countless birds.