Do you have a relationship with a particular tree?
I posted that on the church Facebook page this week and am enjoying the responses. Our church and denomination is currently engaged in Mission 4/1 Earth, fifty days of Earth care. My sermon this week will be on trees. The title, from Isaiah 55, is "Clapping Trees."
Which all made me ponder the trees in my life. Is there a series of blogs in this topic?
So, I thought I'd write first about my Grandma's & Grandpa's trees. The Joneses. The Joneses lived on an 80-acre farm in Narcissa, Oklahoma, a sleepy little hamlet that had once actually been a village -- the only things left in my lifetime were the church, the convenience store/gas station (which later closed), and the homes of residents (many of whom I was related to). They lived in a seven room, simple farmhouse where everyone sat around the kitchen table and entered through the kitchen door. There were the smattering of outbuildings -- the old milk barn, the hay barn, the old chicken house, the storage building, which was actually an old one-room school house they had bought. The farm was a magical place to play as a child, and I vividly recall the trees.
There was a stand of sugar maples behind the chicken house and storage building, just inside the fence of the pasture. These sugar maples were noted for their vibrant green and silver leaves, and the fact that they sent up seedlings all over the place.
To the east of these was a pear tree. It was inside the pasture, but had its own fence around it. At one time the yard had been bigger and had included the pear tree. When we were very young, we were not allowed in the pasture, so we would sneak over to the pear tree, as it wasn't far off.
In the front yard of the house was a mimosa tree. Mimosas also send up many seedlings. I always found this tree to be exotic, like something from Hawaii, where my parents had lived before I was born. This tree spread wide and had multiple trunks. It shaded the entire front yard, and created a good place to play.
Along the fence to the barn yard and very near the propane tank was a tree, I don't remember what kind it was, which was the easiest to climb. Easy, because the metal fence behind it provided a nice ladder up to the nook of the tree. I spent many hours climbing that fence, playing on the gate, climbing into the barn yard, and sitting in that tree. I think I would sometimes hide there when it was time to leave, and I didn't want to go.
In the back yard, close up against the house, was the catalpa tree. It would grow those long beans, and they would hang down, and we would snap them off and play with them. The shade of the catalpa tree carved out the space just behind the house, shading it, and making it the area where folk spent the most time outside. Under its wide branches sat the Adirondack chairs in which lazy evenings were spent. From its strong lowest branches hung the swings. It was here we churned the homemade ice cream. Here we sat and watched Independence Day fireworks.
What longing I have for that quiet, cool space, knowing that Grandma would be working away in the kitchen -- I can see her through the window -- and Grandpa off doing his chores or napping in front of the tv.
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