Animals are precious to many in the Augsburg community. Even on campus, some students live with service dogs and emotional support animals, and the Center for Wellness and Counseling introduces therapy dogs to help ease stress during the busy times of the academic year. Each October, Campus Ministry invites Augsburg community members to bring their pets to campus or submit a photo for the annual Blessing of the Animals service in honor of St. Francis of Assisi, a nature lover and patron saint of animals and the environment.

This spring, we asked Augsburg’s social media followers to share photos of their pets in celebration of animal life in all its forms. Here are some of their responses:

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For more engagement opportunities, Auggie updates, and event highlights, follow us on social media:

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Top image: Students pet therapy dogs during an Auggie Doggie Day event, hosted by the Center for Wellness and Counseling, December 2023 (Photo by Courtney Perry)

Dhruti Panchal couldn’t imagine spending the next five to seven years writing articles and logging data, but most doctoral programs she found focused on research and publishing clinical psychology rather than practicing it.

“Having worked in community mental health, I wanted to positively contribute to health and well-being while going to school,” she explained. She kept searching until she found a practitioner-scholar model that empowers students to apply research to social justice and mental health efforts in local contexts.

Panchal found Augsburg.

During orientation for the Doctor of Psychology in Clinical Psychology program last fall, Panchal learned the university had shifted the structure of its academic programs from two large divisions to five schools focused on the arts, business, health, humanities and social sciences, and natural sciences.

Provost Paula O’Loughlin explained how the five-schools model aligns Augsburg’s organizational structure with the university’s core values and its goals for the future: “The schools serve as smaller academic neighborhoods where students have closer ties with peers and mentors, greater support for career exploration, and a deeper sense of belonging—all of which empowers them to succeed in their professional lives and as leaders in their communities.”

Interprofessional and community-centered education

Panchal liked the sound of five schools, but—as a student—she didn’t anticipate noticing the effects of a structural shift. As the semester progressed, however, she witnessed various disciplines working together “to gain a better understanding of the complex and interdisciplinary nature of health care,” she said.

The School of Health invited Panchal to help launch its Interprofessional Clinical Education initiative later this spring, which will facilitate students’ professional development and collaborative practice skills. Panchal said this and other interdisciplinary projects have deepened a sense of shared identity among the school’s departments, which also include nursing, social work, and physician’s assistant studies.

“As part of the initiative, we are creating a virtual telementoring program that allows students to build and exercise skills as they work through real-world problems,” she said. “This telementoring will play a big role in furthering and facilitating community by bringing together students, faculty, community partners, and alumni for professional development, resource sharing, and interprofessional education.

“By learning to work with different disciplines to solve real-world health problems as a team, students are better prepared for practica, internships, and jobs.”

Director of the School of Health Vanessa Bester said she and the other four school directors are eager to build partnerships and foster dialogue. “The five-school model has created a platform for us to work together, with outcomes driven by our collective energy and dedication to each other, our students, and our communities,” she explained. “It’s been exciting to be a part of that momentum to foster collaborative, inclusive, and transformative education.”

The School of Health held a fall retreat for faculty and staff to celebrate, connect, and plan. From the retreat, the school formed working groups focused on five areas: shared operational resources; interprofessional education; grants and funding; community and alumni relations; and student success.

In less than three months, Bester said, the School of Health is on track to centralize student onboarding, establish a graduate student government, and build a database to support future funding opportunities.

Lori Brandt Hale, director of the School of Humanities and Social Sciences, worked closely with department chairs last fall to identify opportunities for collaboration among this school’s 36 undergraduate majors and two graduate programs, all deeply rooted in experiential education and social justice.

“Many productive conversations emerged from our work together, including hands-on discussions, which opened up opportunities to collaborate, cross-list, and advise students to take appropriate classes in other departments. We ensured classes were being offered across all time slots and sequenced appropriately,” she added. “We want to create a habit of this kind of robust, collaborative work.”

Brandt Hale will facilitate a school-wide retreat in the spring to amplify and leverage opportunities for cross-disciplinary collaboration and curricular innovation in the new school structure.

Strengthened community connections

That collaborative work and spirit extends beyond the confines of each school. The five school directors meet weekly to share and discuss, and Hale said those university-wide connections may lead to the new model’s most innovative outcomes.

“Each director brings a unique disciplinary lens to important conversations regarding university-wide or community issues,” Hale said. “As members of the faculty, we have a clear sense of the needs and challenges of the departments and programs under our direction.”

Jeanne Boeh, director of the School of Business, said school directors act as translators between disciplines within their schools as well as with other directors and university leadership. That deeper understanding of their school helps directors better advocate for and identify opportunities across the university and in the community.

“This model,” she said, “makes us collectively stronger and more agile. We can do more and be more.”

A stronger sense of identity and purpose, Boeh added, helps faculty and directors better communicate with external stakeholders. For example, she said, “It’s easier to approach a community partner and say you are the School of Business rather than the Division of Professional Studies. They know what a School of Business is, so the five-school model makes more sense to people outside of the university. It gives them more direct access to decision-makers.”

With deep ties in the community, the School of Business will explore ways to expand signature programs, including the Augsburg Entrepreneurship Cup, a competition for student entrepreneurs, and the Innovation Scholars program, which engages students in the business development of medical innovations.

“We are just getting started,” Boeh said, “but it’s an exciting time to be an Auggie or to partner and dream with us.”

A clear approach

Ben Stottrup, director of the School of Natural Sciences, said he is proud of the way Augsburg has responded to its natural growth. “University leadership is constantly reflecting on how we can best serve our students and the community,” he said.

“The shift to five schools is not a critique of what was, but a demonstration of Augsburg’s commitment to personal, hands-on learning and experiences that prepare students to lead.”

The previous Division of Arts and Sciences, he said, supported 50 majors and managed nearly 100 full-time faculty. Division-wide meetings were few and far between, and faculty were not always clear about whom to approach with ideas—an opaque complexity that could stifle creativity and collaboration. Requests for reports and data collection pulled faculty away from teaching, research, and service.

“The five-school model reduces layers of structure to provide faculty, staff, and students with a more direct link to administrators,” Stottrup said. “Each director has a seat at the table and can take on much of the work to plan and create efficiencies for administrative tasks and reporting.” The new structure, he added, has also revealed ways to eliminate redundancies and create more user-friendly processes, which gifts faculty more time and energy to prepare students to be critical thinkers, informed citizens, and thoughtful stewards.

A deliberate evolution with philanthropic promise

Stottrup said he and his fellow directors have benefitted from the thoughtful and transparent formation of the five-school model, a process that began in 2019 with an interdisciplinary, campus-wide task force that explored ways to adapt to Augsburg’s growth and institutional goals.

In April 2023, Augsburg announced the creation of the John N. Schwartz ’67 School of the Arts. Established through an estate gift from a visionary alumnus, the school houses 12 undergraduate majors in narrative, performing, and visual arts, as well as master’s degrees in music therapy and creative writing.

O’Loughlin said that the collaborations and efficiencies that emerged from the creation of the Schwartz School spurred conversations about expanding the school-based model across disciplines. Augsburg faculty unanimously voted to approve the shift to five schools in Spring 2024.

The Schwartz School also opened Augsburg’s eyes to the fundraising promise and power of more connected, focused communities of practice. “Putting a name to a school,” O’Loughlin said, “furthers a sense of pride, history, and connection across generations.”

Schwartz School Director Christopher Houltberg said it’s been a privilege to create student learning and experiences that demonstrate that “we can do so much more together than we can separately.”

In late January, the school came together to participate in the Great Northern Winter Festival, which engages the Twin Cities in 10 days of outdoor activities, live music, art, dining experiences, and community conversations. Houltberg said “Expanding Landscapes & Impossible Futures” invited the public into a multisensory experience to explore physical and psychological shifts of climate change.

“In response to our external environment, humanity’s own internal systems and senses have adapted, evolved, shifted, and sometimes even faltered,” Houltberg said. “This event showcased the range of artistic output among the school’s 10 undergraduate majors, two graduate programs, five performing ensembles, three art galleries, multiple annual theater productions, and the Design & Agency trans-disciplinary design studio.” Citlali Flores ’25, a studio art and art education major, said the shift to five schools has created more visibility for her work and major.

“Since the formation of the Schwartz School, I’ve seen more resources for our art department, and it feels bigger,” said Flores, an aspiring elementary school art teacher. “It’s also been fun to see more non-art majors taking art classes because they want to try different mediums of expression. It gets us all out of our bubbles.”

Hearing students and even community members reflect on visible progress, Houltberg said, encourages the schools to continue toward creative and bold outcomes.

Panchal said she and other students are proud to know the university is continually learning, as they are, about the best ways to move through and impact the world. Rather than data entry, her next five to seven years will be a brave experiment for all she can accomplish within a close, imaginative, and driven campus community.

“I didn’t settle and kept looking for a university that shared my vision to positively contribute to the health and well-being of my community,” she said. “I’m now laying the groundwork for a project that will positively impact students’ learning experience, including my own, and I look forward to engaging in all the collaborative efforts that will come from more focused schools of learning and service.”

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Top image: Augsburg University’s inaugural five school directors gather on campus. Left to right: Lori Brandt Hale, Jeanne Boeh, Ben Stottrup, Vanessa Bester, and Chris Houltberg (Photo by Courtney Perry)

People have a way of remembering where they were and what they were doing when unexpected tragedy or loss strikes.

Matt Beckman, associate professor and biology department chair, arrived to Augsburg more tired than usual, still rattled by the violent winds from the night before. Ready for his early morning lab, he parked his car before looking out to the campus landscape.

Katie Lawson Ishida ’12, a development operations manager at Friends of the Hennepin County Library, was notified by her husband of news shared on Facebook. The Augsburg Greenhouse page had posted, and it couldn’t be more pertinent.

Vanessa Walton, an Augsburg community gardener, was working in her University of Minnesota office when she received a text message from the garden manager. In a state of shock, she immediately left campus, determined to see the damage for herself.

Shayna Sheinfeld, assistant professor of religion, drove to Augsburg’s campus, carpooling with a new colleague. After parking, she suggested they take a new path to the office, wanting to introduce him to her favorite landmark.

Leon van Eck, associate professor of biology, opened his inbox, discovering a new message from his department chair, advising caution when coming to campus. There was damage from the recent storm—a downed tree near Hagfors Center.

In the early morning hours of August 27, the tallest member of the Augsburg community fell to the ground beneath her. Folks at Augsburg and beyond had widely regarded her as “The Loveliest of Trees” and experienced an array of emotions when they first saw her lying horizontal. Anger. Sadness. Disbelief. Shock. Each having their own reasons why the tree mattered to them, they held one thing in common: The moment they saw the tree overwhelming the campus lawn was the moment they fully understood her importance in their lives.

The cottonwood that could

Once part of a collection of 34 species in the Augsburg Urban Arboretum, The Loveliest of Trees was a plains cottonwood, the most massive species in Minnesota and the fastest growing tree in all of North America. This makes plains cottonwoods a natural fit for life in the Mississippi River floodplain and lakeshores, stabilizing soil for the long-living trees that succeed them. Another distinguishable trait are their seeds—cottony filaments, dispersed in the wind by the tens of millions.

Walton, along with many of her fellow community gardeners, had another name for the tree’s seeds.

“I would often call that our ‘summer snow,’” she smiled. “The cottonwood fuzzies would land in everybody’s plots and all over the grass. I describe the tree as being a grandmother that would watch over the garden; you kind of felt nestled and safe under her.”

Experiencing the same summertime cotton through the years, Van Eck offered another narrative.

“Our large controlled plant growth rooms [in the Hagfors Center] require some air conditioning units that are on the roof of the building,” explained Augsburg’s plant biologist. And while he looked forward to having students back in the lab, Van Eck also knew that summertime coursework brought with it clogged vents through the cottonwood’s natural dispersal of seeds.

“Sometimes my growth units would go down. Later on, some of the little seedlings would actually sprout on the rooftop—the children of The Loveliest of Trees trying to expand its empire,” Van Eck laughed. “The plant doesn’t let you forget that they were here first and that human endeavors are very secondary.”

What’s in a name?

If cottonwood trees are so fast-growing, resilient, and common—especially in the state of Minnesota—then what made this tree worthy of the title she was given?

To truly know the tree is to understand her history. And that’s exactly what Beckman was tasked to do in the aftermath of the storms on August 27.

After an introduction from Van Eck, Beckman assisted University of Minnesota dendrochronologists Kurt Kipfmueller and Dan Griffin in beginning the process of dating the tree’s origin. Rather than utilizing the traditional method of evaluating a large slab—which would have been too heavy, taken too long to dry, and may not have given the most accurate age calculation—the trio instead decided to incorporate a newer technique.

Using an increment borer, they collected several samples around two feet in length, similar in appearance to a wooden dowel. One side of the sample was then sanded flat, making for a better view of the tree’s rings.

The analysis is ongoing, but the tree’s estimated age was 70–80 years old.

Back then, she would have come from humble beginnings, planted as a simple backyard tree by the owner of a house no longer standing. In fact, the whole neighborhood changed, as individual residences became Augsburg campus offices and housing. Plans were made to build Hagfors Center. The remaining houses were demolished, and the trees she once stood amongst were taken down one by one. The lone cottonwood tree could have been the next to go, but neighbors and members of the Augsburg community saw her value and advocated for her survival throughout the planning and construction of the Norman and Evangeline Hagfors Center for Science, Business, and Religion.

And so she stayed, a center of gravity at the northwest corner of campus.

As plans to construct Hagfors Center were beginning, a Google Maps point of interest was created by an anonymous user. The title, of course, was “The Loveliest of Trees,” likely referencing a poem of the same name by British writer A. E. Housman. A nickname given by a few eventually became a widely used term to refer to this most massive tree on campus—and the only Google Maps entry to hold the title worldwide. Although now listed as “permanently closed,” The Loveliest of Trees can still be viewed in the various stages of her prime, from July 2007 to June 2019, through a Google Street View.

Through an ever-changing lens

For Sheinfeld, visual reminders of the tree are as close as the camera roll on her phone.

In her first days at Augsburg, she saw the tree through quick glances on her way to and from the parking lot. Shortly after, she began to notice the tree, observing it through different eyes than she had initially. The leaves would change. The lighting was different. Yet, the tree itself was a constant presence.

That’s when she got the idea to track the tree’s progress through photos. A week after celebrating Tu B’shvat, a Jewish holiday that marks the “New Year of the Trees,” she officially began a series on February 13, 2023.

Despite not having a background in photography or a grand affinity for the outdoors, Sheinfeld felt an indescribable connection to the cottonwood. “Eventually, I stopped going in the nearest door and started walking around the building so that I could get a better look at the tree,” she said. “It was almost like watching a child grow, except that you get to see such differences in a much shorter period of time.”

Her full collection of photos can be viewed through .

Like Beckman, Van Eck, and many other professors whose offices reside in Hagfors, Sheinfield didn’t have to rely on ideal weather conditions to enjoy the mighty cottonwood. She even changed her office orientation, shifting her desk so she could see out the window and gain a more accessible view of her favorite tree. Seeing the tree’s day-to-day changes was what ultimately altered her relationship to it.

Jewish tradition isn’t the only one that holds trees in high regard.

Walton gained a first-hand understanding of the importance of trees through a global lens. Her position as a program director in the Learning Abroad Center at the University of Minnesota frequently takes her to Thailand and Senegal, where specific trees carry meaning related to spiritual beliefs, national symbols, cultural heritage, or other identities.

“In Senegal,” Walton explained, “the tree that is considered really sacred is the baobab. Where a baobab grows, you leave it. You’ll be driving in parts of Senegal and the road will curve to go around it.”

Walton said that you don’t have to leave the country, or even the state, to encounter cultures that value trees. Three years ago, she attended a Dakota blessing on Augsburg’s campus. Facilitated by Dream of Wild Health, the ceremony celebrated not only the start of the gardening season but also the cottonwood tree that provided shade and a meeting place for those who worked in the garden.

“They told the story about how a visiting star from the sky led to the creation of the cottonwood tree and its importance in the Dakota culture,” Walton recalled. “When you open a branch, you can see the little star. It’s a beautiful story.”

When she learned that the tree had fallen, she wanted the chance to come together with others who loved this Loveliest of Trees, as she had for nearly 10 years. She wanted to make time to mourn, not alone, but in community.

Leaving room for grief

Walton got her wish.

Alex Fink, faculty director for the Sabo Center for Democracy and Citizenship, proposed a memorial service in honor of The Loveliest of Trees, which was held on August 30. Members of the biology department, including Beckman and Van Eck, assisted in the planning and spoke during the service. Sheinfeld, along with Campus Ministry, offered interfaith blessings and prayers. Walton shared a reflection, and other attendees were invited to do the same.

For Lawson Ishida, the memorial was her first time back on campus in years. She had recently had surgery and was just getting back on her feet, but she couldn’t imagine not taking this opportunity to say goodbye to an old friend.

While she was a student at Augsburg, the space beneath the tree had calmed her when she was feeling lonely or stressed, providing a safe and grounding place to collect her thoughts. Her back against the trunk, she would often close her eyes and listen to the song of the leaves in the breeze.

On the day of the memorial, in the same spot she used to go when she felt the most alone, Lawson Ishida found comfort, not from the tree, but from the individuals who loved the tree most.

“I got this chance to understand how much this tree meant to so many other people. It helped me gain a little perspective on the ways in which our lives intersect in these places and spaces—and that we’re maybe not as alone as we think. It rekindled some hope during a time when feeling hopeful can be challenging. I think that was something that The Loveliest of Trees left us.”

As friends of the tree left the memorial, they took with them physical reminders of her presence in their lives. A leaf. A branch. A piece of bark. Final photos. The cyanotype artwork they had created as part of the memorial service.

The takeaway for Van Eck, who wrote both the tree’s and eulogy, is the “live fast, die young” nature of cottonwoods, carrying with them a deep, symbolic parallel to human life itself.

“At the time scale of our own lives,” Van Eck explained, “it kind of makes you feel small and like your life is small. But realizing that your life is very small and very finite actually makes it feel more precious. I think that tends to be the way that folks at Augsburg look at our lives. A small life well-lived can really be a very impactful one in the long run.”

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Top image: Piles of leaves, branches, and trunk—once referred to as “The Loveliest of Trees”—lie still on the campus lawn, August 2024. (Photo by Courtney Perry)