Willow, I love the names on BL that keep one guessing about gender (which is most of them actually). I have a funny willow story so I'll tell it:
When I used to head down to Big Sur to paint I slept in my car by the side of the highway a lot but it was never good sleep because I was always paranoid of the mythical ax murderer finding me in my little tin can by the side of the road. So I was telling a friend that and she said she had an old friend that was harmlessly crazy--a hoarder that had once been a compulsively clean and orderly man whose switch had apparently been thrown in the opposite direction. she said that back in the seventies this guy lived in what was essentially a beautiful zen garden indoors. No furniture,one wall that was a living fountain and a mat on the floor for sleep. She said he now owned land down in Big Sur and sent me off to meet him. When I got there it looked like a junk yard--tons of metal scraps, lumber, old doors and windows, pipe of all kinds and even a couple of appliances to complete the effect and then a rusted out tiny trailer that appeared to be his home. I knocked on the door and told him who I was and he came out and talked to me on the porch because the trailer behind him was so full of garbage, magazines and who knows what else that there were literally only one path through the mess and that led to exactly one place to sit in a ratty broken down old couch. He told me that I was welcome to stay anytime--"just park anywhere and there's a bathroom under the willow."
There is a bathroom under the willow? I asked him if I could check it out and it now tops the list as my favorite bathroom anywhere in the world. Under this huge weeping willow tree that grew out in the middle of his property, the guy had actually run a sewer line and a water line and there was a porcelain toilet, completely functional, hidden from the highway by the willows branches that formed this circular ,living, swaying wall of whispering leaves.
If you come visit, we can make a pilgrimage.