A Beech tree that grows on our farm.
The other night, as I was nodding off to sleep, I started thinking about significant trees that I have known in my life. I'm sure everyone has one or two. As the memories wafted through my mind in that smokey way sweet memories often come to us, I saw a huge American Beech tree. It grew on the bank, on the left side of the road, between my parents and Aunt Valorie's house. It's branches were low to the ground, maybe 5 foot up on the tree. I remember the trunk being huge but that is coming from a child's memory. I've always thought that the bark of Beech trees looks like elephant's hide. I thought this of that particular Beech tree too. So we kind of had an elephant to guide us.
We kids played under the limbs of that tree. The ground was worn bare and packed down from our activities, so we had a lovely playhouse floor. Since the limbs hung low, we could hang things in the tree. I don't remember ever climbing it but I'm sure my brother did. It would have been an easy climb.
In my pre-teens, the county put a gravel road in to replace the rutted out, logging road that ran the distance of our "hollar". The Beech tree had to go. It was like loosing a beloved, family elder.
I thought of an old Apple tree that stood in the side yard of my husband and my first home together. We lived in Thorn Hill, Tennessee for thirteen years. The Apple tree had been there much longer than that. It's trunk was at least 2 foot thick and was a bit twisted and gnarled from age. That tree grew the best apples in the world. They were sweet yet a bit tart and just the perfect texture and juicyness. It's really hard to describe the experience of eating those apples. I have hay fever and before the modern development of allergy medicines, the juice from those apples was about the only thing that would give my itchy throat any relief.
I feel like I need the talent of Mark Twain to write about my trip, about 10 years ago - on the Winter Solstice, to see the Sequoias. My husband and I, along with two of our sons - Barnaby and Ben, decided to travel from Los Angeles up into the high country to see these giant trees. It was such a nice break from the crowds and smells of the city: to journey into the mountains. It was a day full of golden sun. I remember travelling through the San Joaquin valley as we headed north and thinking about tv westerns and songs by the Sons of the Pioneers. Then we came out of the flatlands and headed into the mountains. When we arrived at King's Canyon National Park, I got out of the car and flung myself onto a Sequoia! My family has always called me a tree hugger and here's the proof... me hugging a tree. These are some of the oldest, largest, living life forms on Earth. As soon as my hands touched this wonderful giant, I was surprised. The bark, even in the winter sun, felt like a warm, cushy, firm, sponge. As I mentioned before, we arrived on the afternoon of the Winter Solstice, so the day already felt special. As we walked around among these giants, I couldn't help but notice how quiet it was. There were no sounds of cars or industry. Since it was near to Christmas, only a few other tourist were in the park. Occasionally we heard the sound of birds or wind blowing through the trees. The air was cool and fresh.You could smell the wilderness. It's indescribable how utterly spiritual this experience felt. We were truly in God's best cathedral.
Finally, I return to my childhood and my family home in North Carolina to mention a tree that was a gift to my childhood. It was a Weeping Willow. As I lay in bed thinking about this sweet tree, I began to tear up. The Willow grew in the side yard, near a little stream. It was a huge tree and it cast shade over a large part of the yard. It could be raining and you could stand under that tree and never worry about getting wet. It's long, leafy whips were like ribbons that swayed in the breeze as we played under it's canopy. Then one day, my Dad told us that the tree would have to be cut. It's roots were growing into our septic system. This news just slayed me. As an adult, I understand the rationale of what my Dad had to do but as a child, it was almost unforgivable.
Honorable Mention:
*The little Plum tree that grew at my grandparents house. It was located just feet away from a small mountain stream. In the summer we kids could just reach in, pick a plum, then sit in the shade of that tree as we ate those warm, juicy fruits.
*The large Maples and Oaks that grew like Greek columns in my grandparents yard. Shortly after my grandfather died, my grandmother had those trees removed. She was afraid that they would fall on her house. Before they were cut, my grandparents house looked like a huge, southern plantation. After they were cut, their house looked tiny.
*A Beech tree that grew in my parents yard. A friend gave my Dad the seedling to start that tree. As it grew, my mother complained that it blocked her view of the road. She liked to sit on the porch or look out the living room window at the view of the valley and those coming and going. Dad refused to cut it. Then one day, maybe 30 years after it was planted, lightning hit that Beech and cleared out the view.
*A Persimmon tree that grew in the "hollar" just back of my parent's house, about 30 foot beyond the pig pen. The persimmons on it were the size of ping pong balls and they dropped at our feet every fall. How wonderful life is....
Clarification: In my last post, I mentioned that my sister and I were wearing flip flops to school and that kids could no longer go barefooted to school. I always wore shoes to school. And as far as I know, all my siblings always wore shoes to school. My parents took good care of us and that included having shoes for us to wear. It was the South, we didn't have air conditioning in school, just windows. So flip flops were perfect for keeping cool.
